Follow the Phoenix
by Rachelme177
Summary: AU after HBP:Chap2. After OotP, better choices are made: instead of staying a passive influence, Albus becomes an active part of Harry’s life; and Ginny becomes a better friend. And at the end of summer, the hunt for the Horcruxes begins! H/G
1. Prologue: Stuck on a Stage

**Authors Rant** (feel free to skip this part)

HBP was a good story. But I was unhappy with it right from the beginning. What happened to all that angst from OotP? We were supposed to buy that: Harry accepted Sirius's death in record time; his stay at the Burrow was beyond perfect; and after successfully manipulating Harry, Voldemort suddenly decides instead to block Harry (at least until the plot dictates otherwise in DH!). If Harry's summer hadn't been so perfect, would the people around him have made the same choices? I think not. So, here's what could have happened if the first half of HBP had been less "perfect".

I will try to keep the 'hard facts' as we knew them through HBP, but how people deal with those facts will change. For example, Draco's mission being to kill Dumbledore is a hard fact, and will not change. (That won't be the case when we get to the DH events, but I'll cover that when we get there.)

My rules are simple. Grief happens!, Harry's a teen - he will have trouble coping. Teenage hormones will also happen, but I want my daughter to be able to read, so nothing too explicit. Harry will get the girl, and yes I do mean Ginny. There are no 'deathly hallows' as I found that storyline distracting. I'm in the USA, so any time, weight, and distance references are 'American', not 'British'. Sorry, but that's life. And finally, I'm jumping ahead a bit, but am I the only person who was more upset at Hedwig's death than Moody's? Who lives and who dies will change.

Legal speagal: As another fanfic author pointed out, if you recognize it, I don't own it. Thanks to our dear Jo for writing the five awesome (and 2 OK) books that I used as a backdrop for my story. (Actually, 3 more, cause I find myself using Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them quite a bit, too.)

.

.

**1. Prologue: Setting the Stage**

_Dear Ginny, _

_Thanks for the letter. I've been doing well. You were right, with no homework this summer, I don't know what to do with myself. I've been working on my tan. I know, it sounds more like something Parvati would do than me, but with Mum and Dad working during the day, I don't know what else to do with myself. Professor Dumbledore sent a letter to my parents and asked that I stay close to home when I am by myself. He didn't say, but I got the feeling he had some protective wards placed around our home. I certainly hope the same was done for the Burrow. It's better than the alternative. I do not want to go back __there__. It would seem so empty now._

_About him, I know just what you mean. How can someone die just by falling through an archway? It doesn't seem real. At least the ministry was forced to acknowledge that he was fighting against the Death Eaters, not with them. I doubt that makes Harry feel any better. I wonder if he even knows. Do you or Ron know if he is getting the Prophet this summer? I know he got it last summer, but after the way they treated him this past year, I don't know if he would bother with it. It might be for the best if he isn't. The Chosen One, indeed._

_I'm worried about him, too. Harry hasn't been himself since that night. I don't agree with you about Ron though, I think he did notice, he just didn't know what to do or say, so he pretended not to. Harry never did say what happened when he got back to the school. We were all stuck in the infirmary, but Seamus told Ron that Harry didn't come back to their dorm room until just before breakfast. I've been so worried about him._

_I got a book from the library near my house about the 7 stages of grief. Neville did say that Professor Lupin had to hold Harry back so he didn't follow Sirius through, which is definitely 'shock', the first stage. And then chasing Bellatrix. It's pretty safe to say that Harry has anger covered. Luna told me on the train that she heard the Fat Friar and Sir Nicholas talking, and that Harry had asked Sir Nicholas if Sirius could come back as a ghost, which sounds like 'bargaining' to me. Then Ron said that when he was packing, he had to get into Harry's trunk for something, and he found a broken mirror with a note from Sirius. I don't know what to think of that. I'm afraid that Harry is feeling guilty over his death. I mean, this is Harry. How could he not? It's like Cedric all over again, only this time it wasn't just a someone he knew, it was someone he loved. How could I lecture him about his 'saving people thing'? He wouldn't be Harry without it. The guilt and depression must be eating away at him._

_I think it's a great idea for you to write to him. And yes, I do think he will answer. The two of you have gotten to know each other much better this year, what with the DA, and what was that I heard about an Easter egg in the library? I have been writing to him, but I don't think he will talk to me about this. Sometimes I come across as a bit bossy. I know, hard to believe, but it's true. He would reject anything I wrote about this, I think. But you, you could get away with it. If you are sly about it, and do it in just the right way, he may not even realize what you are doing. He needs a friend who can understand some of the guilt he is feeling, and I'm sorry to say you do understand much better than Ron or I ever could. Will you write him? Reach out to him? It may be painful for you, reliving your own guilt, but isn't Harry worth it? I don't want to lose one of my best friends._

_Well, enough with the depressing stuff! Let's talk about something else. Like what you were thinking when you told Ron about Dean. I thought you had decided not to say anything until you knew if anything was going to come of it. Aren't you and Dean just testing the waters by agreeing to write this summer? You left Ron with the distinct impression that you two are already dating. That was your point, wasn't it? You know that thought is driving Ron crazy. I swear you can be as devious as the twins. All I'll say is good luck. I hope you know what you are doing._

_Which reminds me, you asked if I heard about Malfoy and Parkinson? I'm not usually one to gossip, but since you asked so nicely, I'll tell you what I heard. Apparently, she walked in on him and a Hufflepuff third-year in the prefect's compartment, and they weren't exactly talking, if you get my meaning. So Pansy kicked him quite hard in 'that spot'. No wonder he never did his rounds, he probably couldn't walk! Obviously, that was before our little, confrontation, shall we say. Can you believe Malfoy with a Hufflepuff? He was probably just using her. There are days when I wish I had decked the little ferret harder when I had the chance._

_I'll end this now. I'm sure Ron is waiting on Pig to return, and Mum said she would be home early so we can go to the library. I want to check out a few more books, see if I can find anything else to help Harry. If I find anything I'll pass it along. I do hope his family is treating him well for a change. I'll let you know if I hear anything if you promise to do the same._

_Love, Hermione_

Ginny set down the letter she had been reading, a smile on her face. She looked up at the fluffy clouds in the sky as she sat under the biggest tree in the back yard. She had her answer. Of course Hermione thought it was a good idea for her to write to Harry. How could she have been worried about that?

Hermione was right about one thing. Ginny was the best person to help Harry. Sure the details were different, but she knew the guilt. The could have's and should have's that went through the mind. Yes, she was able to move past it. But she had two of the most loving parents that existed; that took her on a dream trip to Egypt to get away from her troubles and heal. She had spent countless nights crying on Bill's shoulder – the brother that was old enough to understand what she needed and still young enough to relate to her. She had had the twins, who made it their job to make her laugh whenever it looked like she was about to cry again. Even if it was at Percy's expense. Scratch that, _especially_ if it was at Percy's expense.

What did Harry have? Well, an owl that would fly to hell itself for him. OK, but what else? The Dursley's didn't love him; they barely tolerated him. And if Ron was to be believed, they were even worse than that. Wasn't there something about bars on his window that one summer? _'Back on track, Ginny!' _So Harry had a great owl, a lousy family, and orders not to go anywhere "unsafe", which as best as she could tell was pretty much everywhere. Hermione's concerns were certainly justified. Harry would never heal in his current situation. And as the old saying goes "nothing remains the same". If Harry wasn't getting better, he could only get worse.

Could she really do this? Yes. Not only could she, but she had to. This was the boy that slayed a basilisk for her. '_It just needed to be done'_, he had told her once. It would be hard to bring up those old memories, but she would do it for him. She realized then that she had never really had a choice. Over the last year, Harry had become more that just her brother's friend. He had become her friend. And, she thought with a smile, the mysterious financial backer to two other brothers, if her suspicions were correct. _'That's it'_, she practically said out loud. _'I'll write to him about the twins. He won't be suspicious of that. Maybe even hint at my suspicions. That will get him to write back.'_

She got up and headed to her room to get some parchment. In her mind, she was already composing how she would open her letter. Maybe something about the ferret 'getting his kicks'!

-000-

"Ah, there you are Albus," the voice of Minerva McGonagall called out. She had paused in the doorway as she spoke, but then moved carefully to stand behind her friend. Although she was still using her cane, it was more to catch herself than support herself now, and she was looking forward to getting rid of the dumb thing next week. "I hadn't seen you all morning, and was beginning to wonder. Pray tell, what has brought you to the top of the astronomy tower in the middle of the morning? It's a bit bright for stargazing."

"And a good morning to you as well. What did you need me for, Minerva?", Albus said as he turned slowly away from his view of Hagrid's hut, and toward his friend. Only those that knew him well would notice how tired he looked. Many would think it was simply age catching up to him, but after all these years, she knew better. Albus Dumbledore was worried. Perhaps he should be. That fiasco at the Ministry had been a close call. If he hadn't arrived to stop You-know-who, well, lets just say that Hogwarts would start next year one Sixth Year short. At least he didn't have to worry about the Minister any longer. Harry and You-know-who were quite enough to worry about.

"I wondered if you wanted to have lunch together," she replied. "You know I am leaving this afternoon for my sister's house, so I won't be seeing you, except during Order meetings, for the rest of the month. And you did not answer my question."

Albus looked skyward briefly, while he collected his thoughts, then looked back to Minerva, and motioned her to join him on a bench. "I am simply thinking over this past school year. Or more precisely, Harry's school year." He turned to look at her as he spoke, "Minerva, you are the only person to whom I have ever confided my true feelings for Harry, excepting Harry himself. At what point did I fail him? Was it when I had Severus teach him Occlumency instead of doing it myself? When I let Delores assign all those detentions because he insisted in telling the truth? Was it at his trial? Letting him be forced to participate in the tournament? When, Minerva?"

"Albus, please don't do this to yourself. You may have made mistakes where Harry is concerned, but regrettably, we all have." She placed her hand lightly on his arm in a comforting way. "We did what we thought was the best, which is really all any of us can do. Let me ask you a question. Why did you let him participate in the Tri-wizard? ... Was it because you wanted to see if he could win? Or was it because you knew that his refusal to participate fully would trigger a curse which would have left him unable to control his magic?" She didn't give him a chance to answer. "You didn't have any choice. And yes, Severus, Harry and Occlumency was a recipe for failure. But it made sense for Harry to learn it, and your reasons for not teaching him yourself were quite valid."

Albus looked his dear friend in the eye. "But can he ever forgive me? My failure cost him the only father-figure he has ever had. You did not see him, did not hear him that night."

"Maybe not, but I certainly saw the destruction he left behind." Her faced clouded for a moment as she recalled the mess Harry had made, before softening as she recalled why he'd snapped. "He is a _teenage boy_, Albus," she continued, as if he needed reminded of that. "Give him time. Show him, tell him, that you still care. He needs to know that someone does. Those muggles he lives with certainly don't. I am sure I need not remind you of my feelings regarding his current living arrangements." Her face turned sour at the memory of those horrid people. "Why can't you take him away from there? Get him around people who love him and will care for him? Give him a chance to heal."

"You well know the protection afforded to Harry by living with his mother's blood. After what happened at the Ministry, it seems more important than ever that he be kept as safe as possible when he cannot be here at Hogwarts. And I am sorry to confess I am no longer certain he is all that safe here."

"Very well, Albus. I know that there is a reason that you have not told me that explains why You-Know-Who wants Harry so badly. No," she held up her hand, ", you do not have to say anything. You know I understand that. I will let it go." The two friends sat in comfortable silence for a time, then Minerva spoke again. "Are you still planning on taking your little trip this month? What was it you called it? A fact-finding mission?"

"I am undecided. Perhaps I shall delay it until I have made sure that Harry is doing well. I can always make the trip later this summer, as it should only take a few days. Are you still planning to come to Sarag's Glen in August?"

"Yes, depending on Helena's health," she said, and Minerva shook her head in disbelief, "Really, dragon riding at her age. What could she have been thinking? She is lucky they were able to re-grow all of the skin. For an older sister, she has never been very mature."

The professors rose from the bench, and started their walk to the Great Hall. "Will anyone be joining us for lunch today?"

"The only other professors still here are Sprout and Trelawney." She paused, sure she had forgotten someone. "Oh, and Hagrid, of course. Pomona will most likely not leave her greenhouse until she is done harvesting, which will take about two more days. Sibyll hasn't been seen out of her tower for six days now, and Hagrid prefers to eat at his hut."

"In that case, why don't we have the elves pack the food and enjoy a picnic by the lake. It will, after all, be the last time we see each other for several weeks."

****end chapter****

**Note: **The first two chapters are probably the shortest, they get longer later on. These two are meant to just give some background info, so I hope you don't give up on the story just based on this chapter. I suggest you hang on until at least Chapter 5 before you decide to abandon it. Scratch that - you should read through Chapter 38 before you decide whether you like it or not.


	2. Vold E Mort, Super Genius

Legal: Don't own Harry Potter, or Looney Tunes, but I do own a rubber ducky.

.

.

**2. Vold E. Mort, Super Genius **

Draco Malfoy was not having a good summer. He was currently soaking in his father's rather large bathtub, thinking about his predicament. Apparently the Dark Lord held his father responsible for whatever it was that went wrong at the Ministry last month. He couldn't understand that. Clearly it was Potter's fault. So what if he didn't have all the details, such as what exactly they were doing at the Ministry in the first place. Anyone who knew Potter knew that he was always sticking his nose where it didn't belong. Not for the first time, he remembered his suspicions from his Second Year. There was that time during Christmas break, when he had that weird conversation with Crabbe and Goyle. The one that they later swore never took place. He was sure Potter was involved in that somehow, although he had yet to figure out how. Could his friends have been obliviated? Under Imperius? It's not like Potter and the blood traitor would have been able to get their hands on Polyjuice, and the idea that they brewed it themselves was absurd, even with the mudblood's help. Draco couldn't brew it, and believe him, he had certainly tried enough times. If he couldn't manage it, no way they could, especially not as Second Years. But still …

Draco shifted to better reach his "rubber ducky", an exotic and rather rare object that his father had brought back from a business trip to America. There was even a special song about it. As he played with the ducky, and hummed the tune, he thought once again of his less than stellar summer. Why couldn't the Dark Lord see that Potter, and not his father, was to blame? His first mistake, he supposed, was in actually voicing that thought in the Dark Lord's presence. He had thought he had known pain, until he heard the softly spoken 'crucio'. Then there was pain like he couldn't believe. Thankfully, it had ended rather quickly, and he had learned two important lessons. First, never question the Dark Lord. And second, the fact that he was a _Malfoy_ meant nothing to his Lord. Possibly even less than nothing.

And then there was the marking. Painful, but in a different way. Even now, days later, his skin still felt _wrong_. And the burning when a meeting was called! How did the other Death Eaters live with this? He would never say it out loud, but a tiny part of him was starting to wonder if he had made a mistake (not that he'd really had a choice after his father's capture). What if the rumors were true, that the Dark Lord regularly and painfully punished his followers? Surely that couldn't be true. He was the most powerful wizard alive, with a glorious vision of a pure future. Right?

One thing was for sure. He was a vindictive basta … leader. How could Draco ever hope to not only sneak a group of Death Eaters into Hogwarts, but also manage to corner and then kill the Great Albus Dumbledore? Not that he didn't want to, but was it really possible for a 16 year-old wizard to kill a man that the Dark Lord himself couldn't. _'Don't even think of going there. He's the Dark Lord. Of course he could kill Dumbledore. He probably just hadn't wanted to before.' _Yeah, right.

Yes, he would admit, but only to himself, he was starting to have his doubts.

-000-

Rufus Scrimgeour's summer had certainly started with a bang. This particular moment found the new Minister sitting behind his rather impressive desk in his equally impressive office. He appeared to be reading a report on the merits of outlawing cauldrons made out of gold (do these idiots have nothing better to do?), but was actually deep in thought. A few short weeks ago, He-who-must-not-be-named had been seen in the Ministry. He-who-must-not-be-named! In the Ministry! With witnesses! It was still hard to believe. Dumbledore and Potter had been telling the truth all along. He had suspected such, but could not say so out loud for fear of censure from the then-Minister. Fudge, that fool! His unwillingness to admit the truth a year ago cost the entire wizarding world valuable time to prepare and protect themselves. But Rufus was a quick study, and he had quickly learned exactly how to play politics. He supported the 'right' people, avoided the 'wrong' people, and quietly sympathized where it seemed to help the most. If he had a galleon for every time he had listened to a drunk Amos Diggory whine about 'the incompetence of Fudge's regime' or 'the injustice of the persecution of poor Potter'. But what a help he was when the time came!

It was a mere 8 days after the Ministry Melee, as it was referred to in the Daily Prophet, that Fudge was forced to resign. Madam Bones would have been the obvious choice for replacement, had she not been found murdered, in her own home, the very day that Fudge resigned. In fact, her murder had been the proverbial nail in Fudge's coffin. In Bones' absence, Rufus was quickly installed as the new Minister.

Rufus' first order of business had been to retain Fudge as his "Muggle Ministry Liaison", a made-up post that assured Rufus he could keep an eye on Fudge. And the idiot had been grateful for the post, considering it a vote of confidence from the new Minister. Yes, Rufus knew how to play the game.

Rufus' past experience in the Auror Department came into play. He took the time to personally interview every Ministry employee who saw You-Know-Who or his Death Eaters. Those who were actually involved in the battle were another story. They all seemed to have identical stories, from the ministry employees down to the ex-teacher: students were in danger, a very innocent Sirius Black just happened to also show up, and Dumbledore saved the day. And then there was Dumbledore's less than helpful narration of events. As always, Dumbledore's details were vague, and did nothing to answer his questions. What was You-Know-Who after; how did Dumbledore and his group know there was trouble; and of course, what was Harry Potter doing there in the first place? Just how did Potter, and five other students, manage to get from Hogwarts into the Department of Mysteries. For that matter, how did a dozen Death Eaters get into the Department? Had Fudge even heard of the word 'security'?

What he wouldn't give to have 10 minutes alone with Potter. Then he would have some answers! He had tried to speak to the other students, but they all claimed that they hadn't really understood what was happening. Three of them claimed that Potter had received a message that his Godfather (none other than Sirius Black himself) was being held captive there. One claimed he didn't know what was happening at all, and had only gone because Potter needed his help. And the last, that was the best. She claimed she just happened to stumble across Potter and his friends, and thought it sounded interesting!

Rufus had felt backed into a corner. He knew from the Unspeakables that the battle started in the Hall of Prophecy. They confirmed that there had been a prophecy labeled "Dark Lord and (?) Harry Potter" that had been made before Potter's birth. And that's when the idea for "The Chosen One" was born. The wizarding community was in a panic. It needed a beacon of hope. Why not let Potter be that hope? If the boy was unwilling to come forward with details of the Ministry Melee, so much the better. That meant there was no one to contradict his version of events.

Yes, this summer was shaping up quite nicely.

-000-

The Dark Lord Voldemort sat on his throne, a high backed, jewel encrusted creation, and contemplated his genius. His plans were brilliant. So why did they fail? It was as if fate itself was against him. Ever since that Halloween, when a child, a child!, destroyed his body, fate had been working against him. But fate was no match for Lord Voldemort. He was not killed that Halloween night because he could not die. He had seen to that. He nearly laughed as he thought about Albus Dumbledore and his pitiful Order of the Phoenix. Let Dumbledore protect the boy, and lead his Order. None of them knew Voldemort's secret. A wizard as steeped in light as the Almighty Dumbledore would never even consider he had made horcruxes. And so, in the end, the Order was destined to fail.

In retrospect, it had been foolish to put Malfoy in charge at the Ministry. Hadn't he already proven his incompetence with the Diary? But it was not the disaster everyone assumed it to be. True, he hadn't gotten the prophecy, but in possessing Potter he had realized something much more valuable. He would have to rethink his plans for Potter's death. All in all, he considered the so-called Ministry Melee a neutral; not exactly a win, but certainly not a loss.

His thoughts drifted to Malfoy's punishment, and this time he did laugh: a cold, cruel laugh that would have terrified any who had heard it. But of course, no one was at Voldemort's stronghold right now, save Pettigrew, and he didn't really count. Oh yes, he would have his revenge on Malfoy. Ordering his son to kill Dumbledore had been a true moment of genius. The idiot child could never succeed, and Voldemort would have the pleasure of killing the Malfoy heir, thus ending the Malfoy line, for his failure. Of course, he would have to arrange Malfoy's escape from Azkaban so he could witness his son's final moments. He had yet to decide Malfoy's ultimate fate.

The one kink in his plan was the unexpected insertion of Snape. Well, at least by taking the Unbreakable Vow to finish the task if (no, when) the little Malfoy failed proved his true loyalty once and for all. There was no longer any need to have Wormtail watch Snape this summer. Even Bella could no longer doubt. Should he find a way to intervene so he wouldn't lose his most valuable spy? He would have to think on that, as well.

A timid knock on his chamber's door brought him out of his musings. Apparently Pettigrew couldn't even knock on a door like a man. He had so hoped spending the summer in Snape's _tender care_ would give the worm some backbone, but that wasn't going to happen now that he was back at the stronghold. Hopefully, he at least managed to bring the right person back with him.

"Come."

The door swung open to reveal Pettigrew, leading a small, bald man by the hand. The man being lead into the room was indeed Creag Nanhah. Blinded at the tender age of 6 when not one, but two runespoors spit venom into his eyes, Nanhah had been gifted with an uncanny ability to read the fates. How the blind man could read the tarot cards was a mystery none could solve. But Voldemort wasn't interested in how. He just needed his answer. What did the rest of the prophecy say? Voldemort felt a rush of anticipation. "Deal your cards, Nanhah, and share with me the secrets they reveal."

Over an hour later, as Nanhah was lead out of the chamber by Pettigrew, Voldemort returned to his throne. So the full prophecy had indeed been lost. Even Nanhah had been unable to read it. This definitely required more thought. Given his recent discovery, he wasn't sure he wanted Potter dead. But he couldn't very well allow "the one with the power to vanquish" to roam freely. Was turning him an option? Probably not. What then? Perhaps it was time to give his mind a rest so he could come back to the problem later with a fresh outlook. He could call Bella, and ask her to read to him from that muggle book he had found, "The Runner of the Road". It was full of long words she couldn't pronounce. That was always quite enjoyable, and every genius needed his moments of mirth.

**** end chapter ****

**Notes: **This is the shortest chapter in the whole story, but I wanted to show what was happening in the 'outside' world before we enter Harry's world next chapter. "I am Lord Voldemort" gave me the idea for Creag Nanhah, more commonly known to me as Grace Hannah, my oldest child. Kudos to everyone that caught the chapter title references.


	3. Letters from the home front

Legal: I don't own the characters of Harry Potter, Ginny Weasley, or anyone else mentioned in this chapter. I do have a daughter who's quite a character, but I don't actually own her either.

.

.

**3. Letters from the home front**

So far, this summer had proven to be just as relaxing as last summer. Which is to say, it had been a living hell. Being back 'home' with his 'loving family' was an experience most would consider awful. Add in the strange, Voldemort induced dream/visions and high emotions that were not his own, and it became barely tolerable. But with the guilt about Sirius, and the deep, gut-clenching fear of the prophecy hanging over his head, and all the other things and, well, there you were. In hell. And to think, when he was 8, he didn't think life could be any worse at Privet Drive.

He'd been writing his letters to the Order every three days, just like they had requested. Although calling them letters was a bit misleading. Three lines and a signature would best be called a note. But the point was, he was doing it. Writing them made him feel better for a little while. He felt like he mattered, because there was someone out there that wanted to know that he was being treated well. But once the letters were sent, the feeling quickly left. In its place were the feelings he felt the other 23 hours, 50 minutes of the day. Guilt, despair, overwhelming sadness - and those were just the feelings he could easily identify.

He had also written letters to Ron and Hermione. Actually, one letter that he sent to Ron and asked him to forward to Hermione. Maybe having to share his mail would get Ron to pay more attention to Hermione (but that was beside the point). The letter hadn't exactly been deep, but at least it had been long. It was full of the mundane. He had listed everything that had been served at dinner, right down to the ice water. There had been two full paragraphs on the color and pattern of Aunt Petunia's new sofa and draperies, and how they clashed - _'how did I even know that?'- _ with the carpet and recliner. He had even included information on the newest drill at Grunnings that Uncle Vernon had described over lunch one Saturday. Basically, he talked about anything and everything except himself and his feelings. He knew Hermione would read something into that, but that Ron wouldn't mind, if he even noticed. Perhaps Ron would share the bit about the drill with his Dad. Mr. Weasley would be fascinated. Harry wondered if he could get a brochure to send, but thought better of asking his Uncle for it.

Today, when he came up to his room to put his clean laundry away, Pig was waiting. Hedwig, as usual, appeared to be watching Pig's every move to make certain he behaved himself. To Harry's surprise, Pig was carrying more than just the usual letters from Ron and Hermione; there was a third letter. Just as he was removing the letters, his Aunt called him to help her bring in groceries. Harry had thought that keeping busy might help keep his mind off things, so he had made a deal with Aunt on his second day back. He did the chores she gave him, and she treated him like an employee instead of a slave. That wasn't the actual wording, but that's what it amounted to, in Harry's way of thinking. The best part was that the rest of time, they left him alone so he could hid in his room and do, well, nothing.

Harry yelled a quick "be right there", and placed the letters on his bed to read later. He placed one of Hedwig's owl treats near the window for Pig, and slipped two to Hedwig as if to say 'you're a much better owl', and headed downstairs. As it turned out, Harry not only helped with the groceries, he also did some weeding, and took a box of canned goods to the widow down the street (whom Aunt Petunia was trying to impress to get an invitation to her Monday afternoon cribbage game.) He didn't make it back to his room until after having, but not really eating, supper and taking a quick shower. He was just coming back in the room when he spotted the letters. He put down his wet towel, slipped on some old sweat pants that mostly fit, and settled on his bed. First he read the letter from Ron. _"Chudley Cannon's are looking good this year, Dad loved that bit about the drill, can you believe Ginny is dating Dean?"._ Next he reluctantly read Hermione's. Surprisingly enough, she didn't mention the Ministry, Sirius, or emotions of any kind. In fact, the only time she mentioned anything from the past year was when she wrote about some spells that would have been perfect for the DA to learn. From anyone else it would have been a normal letter, but Harry knew it had to be very difficult for her to not mention anything _important_, and he was grateful for her restraint.

That just left the extra letter. He thought he recognized the writing on the outside, but why would she be writing to him? He opened the letter, and peeked at the signature. _"take care and write back, Ginny". _It was from her. That was unexpected. He settled more comfortably to read the letter. He'd never gotten a letter from her before, and wasn't sure what to expect. He read the letter quickly, then read it again to make sure he hadn't missed anything. Before he realized what he was doing, he had grabbed his writing materials, and had started drafting his response:

Dear Ginny,

Wow, a letter from the youngest Weasley. Now all I need is one from Charlie, and my collection is complete. You did know that Bill wrote me last year, didn't you? It was just a short note to remind me that he believed me, and that the truth would prevail somehow. Come to think of it, it wasn't all that enlightening. Huh.

So, the ferret got caught 'sniffing another flower', as you put it. That's hilarious. And it was our dear, quiet Hermione that verified the story for you? I guess that's what five years of sharing a dorm with Lavender and Parvati does to a person. Before we know it, she'll be writing essays on which color nail polish best matches her school robes. Wait a minute, does that also mean that Seamus has been influencing Ron and I? That's a scary thought.

_OK, now, what to say about the twins? She's definitely trying to trick me into admitting about the money._

You're right about the twins - they must have gotten some money somewhere. I know that they bet on the World Cup summer before last. Maybe they found something else to bet on? I know, maybe they won the "what's going to happen to the DA professor this year" pool. Trampled by centaurs would have definitely been a long shot. But honestly, some secret financial backer? I mean, I know none of my friends have an extra bagful of galleons to just give away.

_Very clever Harry. Everything I said was true, so she can't ever say I lied about it. After all, 'none of my friends' doesn't include me. Wait, don't the muggle shrinks say you should be your own best friend? Nah, that's just stupid._

I was surprised when you asked how Dudley is doing. I think most people have forgotten what happened to him last summer. We haven't really talked much this summer. I've been thinking about saying something to him, but I don't know if he will want to talk. I've tried to imagine what his worst memory was that he had to relive. I can't just ask him, that would be way too personal, and we really aren't that close. Actually, we aren't close at all. You would have thought that 2 boys raised in the same house, only months apart in age, would have gotten along famously, but we didn't. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Dudley liked to torment me and get me in trouble. I think Uncle Vernon even encouraged it. And the truth is that I was quite jealous, not only of all the toys and presents, but of the love and attention that Dudley was given. Why did it have to be that way? I guess I'll never know, and it's all water under the bridge now.

_What the hell? I never talk about my childhood. Never. Why would I write that? I have to take that part out. I know, this can be a draft. Yeah, I'll finish the letter, then I can make corrections and rewrite it._

Tell you what. If Dudley and I do ever talk about it, I'll let you know how he's doing. It's kind of odd that you would even be interested. Nice, but odd.

_That's a good way to describe Luna Lovegood – nice but odd. I should ask about her._

Speaking of nice but odd,

_smooth_

have you heard from Luna this summer? I hope she's doing well. I still can't believe that she went with us to the Ministry. I mean, Neville didn't really surprise me that much. I always knew he had it in him, he just needed someone to believe in him so he could believe in himself. But Luna? That was a surprise. I am so glad that no one was permanently hurt that night. I mean besides, well, you know.

_Do not go there. Change the topic fast._

I'm glad to hear you are keeping up with your Quidditch practice. I don't share your confidence that I will be allowed back on the team, so you might have to continue as seeker. You can always try for Chaser if I do get back on. You were right, it was really hard to watch and not play. But if I can't play, I promise I will come to the games to watch you play. And Ron. Watch you and Ron play. Hermione and I can sit together.

_Am I rambling? What is wrong with me tonight?_

Well, its getting late, and I still have letters to Ron and Hermione to write. If it's alright with you, I'm going to tell Hedwig to stay at the Burrow for a day to give her a break. I think she hates being cooped up in this house more than I do. You should see the look she gets in her eye when she's watching out the window. I know it sounds strange, but it's true.

Anyway, until next time,

Harry

.

Harry set the letter aside, and started on his other letters. Compared to the letter to Ginny, they seemed short. They were also filled with the same sort of mundane details of his previous letter. At least this time they each got their own letters instead of one to share. When he was done, Harry set the letters on his desk. He would send them in the morning after he'd had a chance to revise Ginny's. He didn't think he could send it the way it was.

Hedwig watched Harry from her favorite place at the foot of his bed. For the first time this summer, she had seen a genuine smile on her Boy's face. Whoever had sent that last letter, she hoped they wrote again soon!

The next morning Harry woke up feeling slightly better than usual. He wasn't sure why at first, then he remember the letter he had written to Ginny. Picking it up as if it might bite him, he slowly reread it. It wasn't as bad as he had thought, but still. He had put into writing some things he had never willingly told anyone before. And it had felt good to do so. How strange. He was just about to start revising the letter when Hedwig hooted loudly. She landed on the desk and held her leg out.

"Hold your horses, girl. I've got to rewrite this letter to Ginny, then you can take them."

But Hedwig simply held her leg out to him, and he would have sworn she narrowed her eyes, like McGonagall does when she expects you to do what she said _NOW_. When Harry didn't do anything, Hedwig moved closer, hooted again, and tried to take the letter in her beak.

"You want me to send the letter the way it is?" Hedwig bowed her head and held her leg out again. "You won't give me peace so I can rewrite this, will you?" This time she definitely shook her head. "Fine, you win, take the letters. Deliver Hermione's first, and go ahead and stay at the Burrow for a day. Give Ron and Ginny time to write back, and get in some good hunting."

Harry attached the letters, and watched as Hedwig flew out of sight. He was eternally grateful that Hermione had found that protective spell for Hedwig after she had been attacked last year. He brushed away his lingering doubts about the letter as he got ready for the day. After dressing quickly, he made his way to the kitchen for breakfast. Dudley came in behind him, and they got started eating their oatmeal with fruit.

Aunt Petunia spoke up from the doorway. "I have volunteered to help at the Cancer Society Luncheon today. You boys will be home alone. Dudley, I expect you to stay inside today and finish that book report. You know you only have until the 15th to submit the make-up work or you will have to retake literature. And you, boy, you are supposed to stay around the house as much as possible. I expect there to be no trouble while I am gone. Put the casserole in the oven at 4:40; I will be home in time for supper." This last bit was directed at Harry.

A few minutes later, Aunt Petunia was backing out the driveway, and Harry and Dudley were alone in the kitchen. There was an awkward silence in the room, and Harry hurried to get up and clear the dished. Dudley continued to sit at the table. As the silence drug on, Harry couldn't stand it any more.

"I never knew Aunt Petunia was interested in the Cancer Society."

"Mum isn't really. She thought it would look good to the other wives at Dad's new golf club."

"Oh. OK then." Harry's mind drifted back to Ginny's letter. "Look, Dudley, I was wondering. Are you doing all right? I mean, about what happened last summer. You know, the, er, dementor attack. I know you probably don't want to talk about it, especially to me, but I just, well, I hope you are doing alright and that it doesn't still bother you." Harry hadn't looked up as he spoke, he was looking at the dishes he was washing, so he couldn't see his cousin's reaction.

Dudley looked at his cousin, his mouth hanging open, contemplating what he should say. Was Harry being sincere? Probably. Dudley wasn't that stupid, he knew that Harry had a decent heart. He had saved _him_, after all. Finally making his decision, he stood and walked over to stand near Harry, leaning back on the counter.

Dudley cleared his throat as if to warm up to what he was about to say. "About that. I don't think I ever thanked you. I should have, but I was in shock at the time. And then you all but barricaded yourself in your room, and then a few days later you disappeared. Dad thought you were gone for good, but Mum said she knew you would be back. But I've been wondering. Why did you do it? Help me, I mean. I had just decked you, and I'm pretty sure I made you drop your, er, thing, which didn't help. You could have just run for it. But you stayed and saved me. Even got in trouble for it, I hear. Mum mentioned something about a hearing and possible expulsion, which I guess didn't happen. But why?"

Harry kept his face down, watching the dished he was washing. "I just had to," he replied. "You didn't understand the danger, but I knew exactly what those dementors were going to do. And you didn't deserve that. Plus, I knew they were there for me. I mean, who else could they have been there for. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time." Harry stopped washing the dishes, and looked to the wall past Dudley, a distant look on his face. Dudley wondered what he was seeing.

When Harry spoke again, it was in a quiet voice. "Before I came back that summer, there had been a tournament at school. I was kidnapped and taken to this place. There was a bad wizard there. But I wasn't taken alone. There was another boy, a student a few years older than me. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and was taken with me. He was the 'spare' (Harry practically spit the word). They killed him, just because he was in the way. Just like that." Harry stopped for a moment to get his emotions under control. He would not allow himself to cry in front of his cousin.

"Cedric?'' Dudley asked quietly.

"Yeah, Cedric. And I couldn't do anything to save him, it happened so fast. But I could do something to save you. I couldn't run away. I had to save you. Understand?" Harry turned his head and focused on Dudley.

Dudley nodded his head. "Yeah, I understand. Look, we've never been close, and I don't expect we ever can be. But I want you to know that I don't hate you for being different. And I think that Mum and Dad shouldn't have treated you quite so bad. I mean, you couldn't control what you were, could you?"

"No, Dud, I couldn't control it. I didn't even know I was a wizard. They hadn't told me. I honestly didn't know I was the one doing all that stuff."

Dudley chuckled at this. "I thought as much. But, hey, there is one thing I want to know. At the zoo, remember, my birthday? That snake. You really were talking to it, weren't you?"

Harry laughed, too. "Well I didn't realize it at the time, but I guess I was. I don't even know I'm speaking another language when I do it. I bet Piers was really freaked out."

"He swore you were talking to it. I can't wait to tell him he was right." But then Dudley face fell, "Oh, wait, I can't tell him, can I?"

Harry agreed. "No, definitely not a good idea."

"Well, at least I know the truth. Talking to snakes, that must be wicked. What else can you do?"

But luckily for Harry, the phone began to ring, which instantly reminded Dudley that Gordon was calling today to make plans for a double-date. He quickly excused himself to take the call.

Harry finished the dishes in silence. He was amazed. He and Dudley had just had their first polite conversation. But as he thought over the conversation, his mind choose to dwell on the dementors instead of Dudley. And Cedric. And that lead to Sirius. Slipping back into his depression, Harry went back to his room and laid down on the bed. He had told Hedwig to spend the day at the Burrow, so he was all alone. He ended up staying in his room the rest of the morning, and even skipped lunch. He only emerged from the room when it was time to put supper in the oven. All in all, it ended up being just another typical day for Harry.

The next two days passed much the same for Harry. He did chores for his Aunt, eat little during meals, and hid in his room. Luckily, he had only felt one burst of emotion that wasn't his own – someone had really pissed _him_ off – and the near constant pain in his scar had turned into more of a dull ache which he barely noticed most of the time.

He was lounging on his bed after lunch when Hedwig finally reappeared. She was carrying two letters, one from Ginny, and one from … Fred and George? Setting Ginny's letter aside to read last, he opened the one from the twins. It was funny to read, as the twins wrote like they talked, their handwriting overlapping at times. Their store was doing well now that school was out. They gave him a detailed description of the store, and an update on some of the new products they were working on. They included an invitation to come see the place and get a "private tour" of their back rooms, and ended by asking if he happened to know anyone who had use for a slightly used, and quite empty, Gringotts' coin pouch.

The letter from Ginny was much longer, and much more welcome. Not to say that Harry didn't appreciate hearing from the twins, but still. Ginny started with trivial things. _"Ron won't stop going on about Dean. You would think he hated the boy. I wonder if I should mention that we aren't technically dating?"_; _"Mum found a gnome trying to get into Dad's shed. She's practically going spare trying to figure out what's in there that the gnome's would want to get to."_; and _"Luna says hi. She was glad to know that I had heard from you because she was convinced you had been hiding in a cave and living off of seaweed and pixie eggs."_

But then the letter changed. The tone remained light and happy, but the subject matter was anything but. _"That's too bad about you and your cousin. Maybe he'll come around if you try to talk to him now."_; then later, _"I know all about jealousy. The twins were always getting all of Mum's attention, course now I know its because they were always doing something stupid or dangerous, but that doesn't matter when you're five, does it?"_; and _"Your Aunt and Uncle are just horrible people, Harry. You, on the other hand, are a good person. They don't deserve you in their lives. They deserve a troll, or worse yet, Draco Malfoy. Can't you just picture that?"_

And then the real whammy: _"Sometimes we can look fine on the outside, but we are still hurt on the inside. Those wounds take the most time to heal. I know. I've done it. And Professor Lupin is right, chocolate helps."_ Four little sentences, buried in the body of the letter, that almost took his breath away. She was telling him she understood. Did she know that some days the guilt and fear made him sick to his stomach, so that he couldn't even keep his dinner down? That it seemed like he had thrown-up more this summer than in his entire life? That he was afraid to sleep, afraid of the dreams? That he remembered how the pain from using that quill on his hand had made him forget all of his troubles for awhile? That he craved that pain now so he could forget everything for awhile? He wasn't sure she would understand that part. He didn't think he understood it.

Shortly after that, she had ended the letter: _"So none of your friends has a bag of gold to get rid of, huh? Too bad, I could have used some new dress robes like the twins bought Ron. Strange, that. I wouldn't have taken them for fashion aficionados." "Promise me you will write back, about whatever you want. I love to hear whatever you have to say." _

This time Harry didn't answer her letter right away. She had given him a lot to think about, but he didn't want to think right now. So the letter was put under his pillow, where he figured it would be safe enough, and he went back to his daily routine. But two nights later, he had a vision. He dreamed he was a mouse, running from a cat. But the cat turned into the snake Nagini, and when he ran around the corner, he was no longer the mouse. He stood still as Nagini slithered past, and then followed her into what appeared to be a throne room. Voldemort was there, berating Bella and her husband for being seen somewhere. They were both told to stop accusing Severus, who had proven his loyalty, and to keep focused on their task. They were punished severely, and Harry woke up trembling and with a pounding pain in his head.

He raced to the bathroom, where he luckily didn't vomit. He slashed water on his face, took a handful of pain relievers, and returned to his bed with a cold washcloth. A quick glance at the clock told him it was just past 2:00 AM. _'Why can't he keep normal hours?' _He doubted he would be getting back to sleep. He quickly wrote down what he had seen in an old notebook to pass on to the Order when he saw them (it being too sensitive to risk sending by owl). When he was done, he started to look for something to take his mind off what he had seen. Once again he felt that strange craving for the pain of a detention with Umbridge, so he wouldn't have to think about what he just saw, but pushed that thought aside. Then he remembered the letter from Ginny. It was still under his pillow, a little crinkled, but otherwise unharmed.

He smoothed it out and reread it. Maybe he could he write to her now? He wasn't completely stupid, he was able to read between the lines. She wanted to know how he was doing. She was worried about him, and the funny thing was she didn't even know the worst part. Harry had told no one that he knew the full prophecy, nor hinted in any way what had to happen.

The real question was not if he should write, but what he should tell her? On one hand, he felt he had already told her too much. As a rule, he liked his private business to remain just that. But on the other hand, he had to admit that writing that last letter had felt good. And her latest letter had certainly gotten him thinking. He remembered last Christmas, when she had none too gently reminded him of her ordeal. She wasn't just talking in her letter. She really could understand, probably better than anyone else he knew.

After debating the issue in his mind for quite some time, Harry came to realize that the answer was simple. Things were not going well. He couldn't continue the way he was now. The lack of decent sleep and trouble keeping his food down was taking a toll on him physically. And mentally, he wasn't much better. He couldn't admit his thoughts about wanting to escape his own mind - he didn't want her to think he was crazy - but he could tell her about his other feelings. She would figure out a way to help him, like she had at school. And he could trust that anything he told her would stay between the two of them. With these thoughts in mind, he began his letter:

Ginny, as I write this letter to you it is about 3:00 in the morning …

**** end chapter ****

**Notes: **Just to be clear, Harry is not actually hurting himself, he's just thinking about it. This isn't a 'Harry self-destructs' story. Trust me.

The Lestrange's task isn't important. I tell you this because I don't want you to obsess over it. It is not a mystery to solve, its just a plot devise to get Harry to wake up at 2:00 AM really upset so he can write Ginny a letter.


	4. Perfection is just a town in N Carolina

Update alert – for teasers about what's coming next, and info on when to expect updates, check out my profile page under the 'my stories' section.

Legal schpeagal: I don't own the things you recognize, and the things you don't recognize probably aren't worth owning.

**.**

**.**

**4. Perfection is just a town in North Carolina**

When Ginny woke up, she was surprised to find Hedwig perched on the foot of her bed, a letter attached to her leg. Then Hedwig noticed she was awake, and moved to the table next to the bed so Ginny could reach her leg. Taking the letter, Ginny moved to sit up, and started reading:

Ginny, as I write this letter to you it's about 3:00 in the morning. I've just had another vision, nothing too important, but bad enough that I know I won't be sleeping again tonight. A part of me doesn't want to write this letter, but the smart part of my brain knows that I should do this. I'm going to write quickly, and send it right away before I can change my mind.

I'm giving you the truth because I think that's what you've been asking me to do. So if I've read something into your letters that wasn't there, I'm sorry. But I need to tell someone, and I have no one here that would care, even if I did tell them.

This isn't the first night I haven't slept. It's only the second or third time I've had a vision, but other nights I have horrible dreams about Sirius, or the graveyard. Or sometimes that you, Ron, or someone else was killed at the Ministry. Somehow I don't think chocolate is going to help with those. I wish it could.

Or maybe I don't. Just thinking about eating chocolate is making my stomach sick up. It seems like I get that a lot these days, too. It's gotten so bad that I hardly eat anymore. I know that if I have too much, it will just come back up. I'm pretty sure I've lost a bit of weight. No one here has noticed. I don't know if that's because of the oversized clothes I'm always forced to wear, or because they just don't care enough to look.

I'm not really sure what I expect you to do about all this. I don't believe there is anything that you can do. It just is what it is. But your letters seemed like you wanted to know. And I guess I hoped you would maybe understand a little of what I'm feeling. And, I don't know, maybe find some miracle cure for me. Maybe get the twins to invent a 'Happy Harry' candy. I know, it could be butterbeer flavored. Think they could do that?

I don't really know what else to say. Maybe writing this is a mistake after all. Now that it's all out on paper, I feel a bit stupid. I mean, I'm complaining about having a few stupid dreams, and not being very hungry. What, am I turning into Malfoy? I should be able to handle this. Everyone expects me to. They send me back here, year after year, even thought I hate it. And I'm just supposed to deal with it. I mean, last year, I had just seen Cedric killed, like right in front of me. And then being forced to help bring him back, and having to fight him for my very life. And when I get back to the school, some crazy guy grabs me and tries to off me. And what do I get? I hug from your Mum, and bag full of gold, and sent BACK HERE! I almost lost it last summer, and I don't think anyone even noticed. Why didn't anyone notice?

That's what I really want, Ginny. Someone to notice. And maybe that's why I'm writing this letter to you. I think you noticed. Or at least, I hope you did, cause if you didn't, I've just royally messed up. I'm starting to think this was a bad idea. Maybe I shouldn't make major decisions, like spilling my guts, on 3 hours sleep. I'm going to end this now, and send Hedwig with it right away, before I can talk myself out of it. I'm going to be so embarrassed the next time I see you. Promise me we can pretend I never wrote this.

Harry

By the time Ginny was finished, she had tears falling down her face. _'Oh Harry, please let this be everything,' _she silently prayed_. 'Please don't be hiding anything from me. This is bad enough.'_

Upon seeing her tears, Hedwig moved closer, and Ginny absently moved her hand out to stroke the bird. "You've seen how he is, haven't you girl? You know he needs my help, don't you? Don't worry Hedwig, we'll get him help somehow." Having made this vow, Ginny finally got out of bed. She put the letter in the drawer of the nightstand and got ready for the day. As she left her room, she told Hedwig she could stay and rest for a bit before returning to Harry. "He shouldn't be alone for too long right now, should he? You don't have to wait for my reply. I'll send something later with Pig or Errol. Godspeed, Hedwig."

After Ginny left the room, Hedwig hopped to the floor in front of the drawer. With her beak, she pulled the drawer open. Then she picked up a dirty shirt from the basket, and dropped it half in - half out of the drawer. Her task complete, she moved to the window and started the journey home, where she knew she was needed.

Downstairs, Ginny found Molly Weasley alone in the family room. "Mum, can we talk?"

Molly stopped her knitting and perked up. "Oh, a mother-daughter bonding moment! I've been looking forward to having one of these with you. What is it Ginny? Boy trouble? Is that boy - Darin is it - giving you trouble?"

Ginny looked at her mother, clearly annoyed. "Mum, please, this is serious?"

Molly apologized, "Sorry dear, your brothers slipped their Giddy Goo into my morning tea. They assured me it would wear off soon. Tell me what's on your mind; I'll do my best to control myself."

Ginny moved so she could rest her back against the wall, and started. "Well, I've been writing to Harry this summer. You knew that, right? I got a letter from him this morning. Mum, I don't think he's doing very well. He told me some things, and I'm worried about him. He said he's having trouble sleeping and eating. ... Isn't anyone checking on him? When was the last time anyone talked to him?"

Molly looked at the daughter, and motioned her to have a seat next to her on the couch. "I'm sorry sweetheart, I don't think anyone has been to talk to him. I know that he has been sending his letter every three days, but that they are always short. Mrs. Figg says he hasn't been out much either. Is he really having trouble eating? Do you think it would help if I sent some of his favorite treats?"

Ginny brightened a bit at the suggestion. "Oh Mum, I think he would love that. His letter just seemed so sad. Is there any way we can go see him? I think he would love it if we visited. We could even take Ron and Hermione. Maybe go out for the day. You know, some fun outing to get his mind off his troubles for awhile."

Molly clasped her daughter's hands in her own. "Ginny dear, slow down. You're getting ahead of yourself." She hated to disappoint her daughter, but wanted to be realistic. "I'm sorry, but no one can go see Harry. It wouldn't be safe. You know we can't draw attention to where he is. And the protections around his relatives' house will only protect him, not anyone else." She thought for a moment. "I'll tell you what. I'll share your concerns at the next Order meeting. Perhaps I can finally convince Albus that it's time for Harry to come home."

Ginny turned to look her mother in the eye. "I don't think that will be enough. I'm going to keep writing to him. I know some of what he's going through. I have to help him, Mum. I'll let you know when I'm ready to send my next letter, we can include your treats."

Molly smiled. "That's a lovely idea. Now, before you rush off, is there anything else you wanted to talk about? Any other boys you've been writing this summer?"

Ginny turned a bit red, wondering if her Mum knew about the supposed romance with Dean Thomas. "No one else worth talking about. I'm going to go for a walk in the woods and gather some Fiddlecorn nuts. You can add them to some biscuits for Harry. Thanks, Mum" And with that said, Ginny gave her Mum a quick peck on the cheek, grabbed a basket and headed out the door. Molly watched after her for a moment, then got up and headed up the stairs to gather laundry.

When she entered Ginny's room, she noticed some clothes hanging out of the nightstand drawer. Picking up the clothes, she noticed the letter underneath. Molly glanced out the window toward the woods. She knew Ginny wouldn't be back for at least an hour. She should honor Harry's privacy. After all, he hadn't written the letter to her. But Ginny's concern had her concerned. Her daughter was level-headed. If she said Harry needed help, then he did. And as the closest thing to a parent the poor boy had, Molly had to act. She pulled the letter out of the drawer and started reading. By the time she was done, she, like her daughter, had tears in her eyes. She found a blank piece of parchment on Ginny's desk, and muttered a quick charm to copy the letter onto the parchment. Putting the letter back and closing the drawer, she folded her copy, intent to share it with Albus the first chance she got.

Ginny waited until late that night to write her letter back to Harry. She knew she had to answer carefully, as Harry no-doubt regretted sending his letter. If she responded too quickly, he might think that she thought he couldn't handle anything. If she waited too long, he might think she didn't really care. And if she said the wrong thing, he might stop writing to her. With this in mind, she retreated to her room after dinner, her mother surprisingly excusing her from clean-up duty. First she wrote a quick letter to Hermione. She didn't share any of Harry's secrets, but she did tell her that she had finally gotten through to him, and that he was opening up. She included lots of stories of what Ron had been up to this summer, just to see what kind of response that got. She also wrote a quick note to Dean, realizing as she did so that her letters to Harry were always much longer, and much more personal. Those letters out of the way, she grabbed some fresh parchment, and began writing.

This was the most personal letter she had ever written. She poured her heart into it. She talked about her own experiences the summer after her first year, described some of her own nightmares from that time, and confessed that, very rarely, she still had them. She admitted to the times when she had felt she couldn't live with her guilt. It was just talking with her family that had helped her the most, and that's what he needed to do - find someone to talk to, face-to-face. She ended asking him to promise her that he would talk to someone the first chance he got, before his guilt and sadness made him do anything he would regret.

She waited until the following morning to send the letter - she and her Mum had biscuits to bake first. When the package was ready, Molly charmed her letter so that only the person it was addressed to could read it. Molly took the package, and letters (Ron had also written one), and apparated to Mrs. Figg's house. Figgy, as she was called, promised to personally deliver the package when she was done tending her cats.

-000-

When Harry was told the door was for him, he was a bit concerned. No one was supposed to be coming here. Not caring what his Aunt might think, he clutched his wand tightly in his hand, and made his way to the door.

Aunt Petunia was standing next to Mrs. Figg, a sour look – _'does she have any other?' – _ on her face. "Put that thing away when the door is open, boy. And make it quick, I don't like her kind on our doorstep in broad daylight." Apparently Aunt Petunia remembered that Mrs. Figg was involved in the dementor incident last summer.

The other women frowned. "This won't take but a minute of your time, Petunia. I have a package for Harry from some friends of his. They told me to tell you 'Ron doesn't have any brains anymore', whatever that means." She looked him over critically. "You take care of yourself Harry. I wouldn't mind seeing you around the neighborhood this summer." Mrs. Figg handed Harry his package, turned and with a quick glance toward the street sign, left.

Harry made a hasty retreat to his room, package in hand, before his Aunt had a chance to say anything more. The message that was cryptic to Mrs. Figg assured him that this package was from Ginny. Only she would make that joke to him. He opened the box, and saw two letters and a plate full of biscuits. There was a note on top of the plate from Mrs. Weasley hoping he was doing well, and letting him know that Ginny had collected the Fiddlecorn nuts, and helped bake the biscuits. He reached in and took one. They were still warm, and delicious.

Harry read the letter from Ron, and then set it aside to answer later. He grabbed another biscuit and looked at the letter from Ginny. This was her response to his last letter. Did she think he was a total idiot? That he was a nutter? Or had she understood, like she had hinted before? Would the letter make him feel better, or would he feel even worse for bothering her with his problems? There was only one way to find out, he supposed.

Harry settled more comfortably onto his bed, and began reading. For the first time, he truly understood what Ginny had felt after the Chamber. He had never really thought about what she had gone through. But then again, he was only 12 at the time, and what 12-year-old boy has thoughts that deep? Now he knew. She hadn't had any magical cure for his problems - no 'Happy Harry' candies were on their way, not that he had expected any. What she had given him instead was hope. Hope that things would get better. He just had to hang on. And then she asked him to promise to talk to someone 'before he said or did something he would regret'. _'does she know what I've been thinking about?' _Could he make her this promise? He knew that making the promise meant he would have to keep it. But would that be such a bad thing? And didn't he owe her that much? Yes, and probably more. He would make the promise, and he would talk to someone when he had the chance, no matter how hard it would be.

The next few days passed quickly for Harry. He had written back to Ginny, putting into writing his promise "to have an honest talk with an adult who will care and can help me." He figured that automatically freed him from any type of discussion with his Aunt and Uncle, and gave him a loophole to avoid people like Mundungus, or even worse, Snape. From there, their near-daily letters had gone back to the gentle teasing of the earlier ones. Ginny continued to joke about Ron, give updates on the rest of the Weasleys, and of course, drop hint after hint about the twins. She had now decided that they must have found what she called a "mystical money bag" on the Hogwarts Express. She was making plans to find one for herself, each plan getting more outrageous than the last. Hedwig, Pig, and Errol seemed to be passing each other in the sky with their frequent letters.

Oddly, Harry's emotions had become somewhat erratic during this time. Since sharing such personal thoughts with Ginny, Harry noticed he had more times in the day that he felt almost normal. Almost, because he wasn't sure he remembered what normal felt like. He felt his best when he was receiving or sending his letters, whether to Ginny or any of his other friends. But these high points were offset with the lows. Any time he was forced to spend with his Uncle, who had taken to commenting on Harry as if he wasn't in the room, was such a low. This had a two-fold affect: it reminded Harry just how little his Uncle thought of him, and reminded him of the way Kreacher would do the same thing. This, in turn, reminded him that his Godfather was dead, because of Kreacher, but also because of his own mistake. It would be while sulking in his room after these family dinners that Harry would find himself thinking about going to his trunk to get the broken mirror, but he always pushed those thoughts aside.

Harry was still having trouble sleeping, and his eating habits, while slightly improved, were still not up to par. Probably the only thing that had really improved was Harry's relationship with his cousin. Dudley made it a point to speak to Harry as if he was a person, and not a punching bag, this summer. They had even talked about girls one evening. It was a strange conversation, but also the closest thing to a normal teenage conversation Harry had had so far this summer.

By far, Harry's lowest point came on the morning of July 18th, when a strange owl came to his room. Harry had just returned from delivering a pie to the widow down the street (another bribe attempt by Aunt Petunia), when he noticed it. He looked the envelope over carefully before he reached out to remove it from the owl. It was from the Daily Prophet. Not knowing what they could possibly want with him, Harry threw himself into the chair at his desk, and opened the letter.

Mister Potter,

The Daily Prophet, your paper for all the important wizarding news, respectfully requests an interview with you. The wizarding community has a right to know your reaction to the posthumous exoneration of Sirius Black, who as you know was declared deceased by the Ministry of Magic Department of Life and Death on July 15th. Please reply with the time and place that would be most convenient for you to meet with our reporter. Photos will be optional.

Awaiting your reply,

Richard Woolsey, Chief Correspondent

Harry dropped the letter in surprise. Sirius had been declared dead? He had been exonerated? And he had to hear about it from the Daily Prophet? It seemed to Harry that time stopped. It could have been five minutes or five hours, when Harry realized that Hedwig, Pig, and another unknown owl were sitting on his desk, letters attached to their legs. Harry removed the letters and read them without even realizing what he was doing. Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Hermione, and even Professor Lupin had all written him letters to give him the news. But it was too late. Harry had heard it from, in his mind, the worst source possible. He didn't bother to respond to any of the letters, sending all the visiting birds on their way without even a treat. Hedwig hooted softly, and settled on the footboard to watch her boy.

Harry didn't leave his room the rest of the day, except to answer a quick call of nature. He didn't have anything to eat, and even blew off Dudley's nightly visit. He finally returned to the land of the living the next day for lunch. He didn't talk to anyone, but did go out and weed the garden as his Aunt requested. That evening, Harry did the dinner dishes in a haze, snapping out when he heard the phone ring only to realize he was just standing there, holding the knife he was supposed to be drying. He put the knife away, and went to his room. He was starting to worry about what was happening to him. Deciding he needed to do something to bring himself up, he decided to reread his last letter from Ginny.

He smoothed the letter out, and read it again. This time he noticed the letter itself, and not just what it said. The writing was quite nice - smooth and easy to read. The parchment had a faint scent to it that he couldn't identify, but that brought the fresh outdoors to mind. There appeared to be grass stains in one corner, as if she had lain on the ground while writing.

Harry's mind drifted to the girl herself as he imagined her, lying under her favorite tree in the back yard of the Burrow. Probably chewing on the end of the quill as she debated what to write next. She had certainly grown up over the years. And filled out, if he was being honest. Ginny, he realized, was the perfect combination of good looks and tom-boy ability. She was smart, without being pompous like Percy. She had real backbone; a definite must to be around him. Yes, Ginny Weasley wasn't a little girl anymore, no matter what Ron said. It was, he thought, unfortunate that she always seemed to have a boyfriend these days. Or did she? Her earlier letter made it sound like there wasn't really all that much between her and Dean. Maybe when he wrote back, he should ask her about that.

**** end chapter ****

**Notes:** Fiddlecorn nuts only grow in magical woods of less than 50 acres. They are blue, shaped like lifesavers, and taste like chicken (kidding, they taste like almonds). My kids love them. Richard Woolsey is a character on Stargate SG1 whose personality matched how I imaged the Prophet idiot to be, plus I thought the name sounded British. The chapter title was originally my title for the story. I thought it fit here, where there is no doubt that Harry's summer isn't going as perfect as Jo had it. By the way, Perfection really is a town in North Carolina, USA. I've never been there, but I hear it's perfect.


	5. When there’s a Will there’s a Way

Legal schpeagal: I don't own the things you recognize, and the things you don't recognize probably aren't worth owning. Except The Bahatan Secret, but I can never get the darn thing to work for me.

.

.

**5. When there's a Will there's a Way**

It was a somber group that assembled in the parlor of #12 Grimmauld Place. Lupin had notified the Headmaster a few days ago that he had Sirius' last will and testament. A discreet meeting of those Order members who were either likely to be mentioned, or those who had emotional ties to Harry, was scheduled for today. Aside from Lupin and Albus, Arthur and Molly Weasley (on Harry's behalf), and Tonks, representing the relatives Sirius could stand, attended. The house, already as dark and drab as it was, seemed the natural place to hold the reading.

It had earlier been decided that Harry should not attend the initial reading. While it was doubtful that Sirius mentioned any sensitive Order information in his will, it never hurt to be prudent. And let's face it, Sirius didn't do serious. Harry needed gentle right now, not a misguided attempt at morbid humor. After they knew what was in the will, they could decide what to tell Harry, and how.

Thankfully, there had been no heartfelt letter to Harry with the will. While some might think that such a letter would have been a good idea, most of the adults who really knew Harry, knew better. If half their suspicions about Harry were true, any letter from Sirius, no matter how innocently written, would likely send the boy on a downward spiral of guilt and anger.

Before the will was read, Remus Lupin gave the group an update on Harry. Harry had been sending his letters every 3 days as requested, and they continued to be short, devoid of any emotion. They were mechanical letters along the vain of "still here, being fed" or "had a good day, Dursleys were out today". Mrs. Figg continued to watch for Harry around the neighborhood, and she continued to be disappointed. She had noted that he looked like he may have lost some weight, but it was hard to tell in those ridiculous clothes he wore at home.

And so, at a quarter past 1:00, on the rainy afternoon of July 20th, the Will of Sirius Black, him having been declared legally deceased five days prior, was opened. The Will was actually very simple and straight forward, less than one full page. Everything went to Harry: the house, the vault, the house elf, all of it. Even his trusted old motorcycle, presuming it could be located. Everything, that is, except the thing he treasured most: his 'guardianship' of one minor child named Harry Potter.

In this matter he was quite clear in his wishes, and to say that his wishes surprised those present would be an understatement. Sirius asked that Albus Dumbledore take over Harry's guardianship, should Sirius expire prior to Harry's 17th birthday. His reason was to the point: "Albus Dumbledore is the only wizard capable of keeping Harry alive and teaching him what he needs to know to survive. If I have been killed, or worse yet Kissed, then this war is accelerating and we can no longer afford to shelter Harry." It turned out Sirius could do serious after all.

After a rather heated discussion, during which Molly Weasley was brought to tears at least twice, and everyone was certain they heard a wolf growl once, Albus conceded that he could take over as Harry's guardian, in title if not in physical possession. Harry would remain at the Dursley residence until August 16th to maximize the protection from living with his mother's blood. He would then be brought to Grimmauld Place to spend the last two weeks of vacation with the Weasley family, Hermione, and Remus Lupin, who was quite adamant that as the last of his father's friends, he should be more involved with Harry. Albus would have the final say in all major decisions, but would leave the day-to-day issues to Molly and Remus. The fact of his guardianship had to remain secret, so all present took The Bahatan Secret, making them unable to discuss the matter with anyone who did not already know without just cause. Not quite as foolproof as an Unbreakable Vow. But also not as deadly, and Albus Dumbledore could never ask another person to make such a dark vow.

As the discussions in the room turned to other topics, Molly excused herself to the kitchen to make tea, and asked Albus if he could give her a hand. Once in the kitchen, she put the water on, then took a seat at the table, motioning for Albus to sit across from her, which he did. Albus calmly waited for Molly to begin what he was sure would be a very important discussion. As the mother of seven children, Molly Weasley knew when something was trivial and when it was important. She would never waste the Headmaster's time with trivial.

Eventually she began. "Ginny started writing to Harry at the beginning of the summer, apparently at the urging of Hermione Granger. The two of them agreed that, given Ginny's unique history, she was in the best position to reach Harry."

"A wise decision," Albus agreed. "I am surprised none of us adults had thought of it."

Molly concurred. "Most adults still see Ginny as an eleven year old girl that was taken in by You-Know-Who. Ginny is a strong girl who has learned from her ordeal and will not make such a mistake again." Molly frowned, looking down at her hands so the Headmaster wouldn't see her embarrassment. "I forgot that myself last year when I insisted that none of the children be allowed to know what was happening. Perhaps I just wanted to deny the fact that they, Ginny and Harry especially, are not exactly innocent children anymore. I was so critical of Sirius, but now I can see that he may have had the right idea. How different would things be right now if we had trusted Harry more? Those kids proved to us all that they will be involved whether we like it or not. How could we have expected anything less from Harry?"

Albus replied, "Harry and I have already discussed the unfortunate decisions of last year. I have given him my most heartfelt apology, and have promised him that I will be more forthcoming from here forward."

Molly paused, and took a moment to ask herself if she had done the right thing. While gathering the laundry, she had spotted that letter, read it, and copied it. Knowing that it was too important to ignore, she made her decision, and slid the copied letter across the table to Albus. As he picked it up to read it, she got up and went to the cupboard. Finding a full bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey, and two glasses, she returned to the table and waited for Albus to finish reading. She watched as his eyes lost their twinkle and his face began to frown. Pouring the drinks, she slid Albus one as he put the letter down on the table. They looked each other in the eye briefly, then raised their glasses and drank. Now they were ready to talk.

It was fierce mother hen that faced down the venerable Headmaster. "That boy needs to be removed from those people as quickly as possible. I will not accept any of your excuses this summer, Albus. Either you arrange it, or I will go there and get him myself."

"I understand your concern Molly, particularly in light of this most disturbing letter. But the blood protection …

"Albus, that letter was written before the news about Sirius," Molly cut in, not giving him a chance to finish. "Before, Albus. If that is how he was feeling then, how must he feel now? What good is blood protection if the danger is inside the house? What if something happens to him while he is there? I could not live with myself if I did nothing." Molly reached across the table and took his hands in hers, looking him in the eye. "He needs help, Albus. He needs family; needs to be home. And don't you dare say he is home. That place is no home to him, and you know it."

"Molly, certainly you are not suggesting that Harry is suicidal?" Albus asked, the disbelief clear in is voice. He shook his head. "I think that you are overreacting. I agree that Harry sounds rather depressed, but he has always proven himself more resilient than most."

Molly huffed. "Is that what he was last summer, Albus? Resilient? I seem to recall a boy that was mad at the world."

"Once again, Molly, I concede that we did not handle the situation wisely last summer. We should have listened to Sirius when he told us to stop treating Harry like a child. But what is done cannot be undone."

"Exactly, Albus. It is time for us to learn from those mistakes. When you go to see Harry, you need to do more than just talk to him. You need to pay attention to him." Molly stopped for a moment, and tried to bring both her temper and her voice back to reasonable levels. "Albus, I want you to reconsider letting him come to the Burrow. I know that you think that Grimmauld Place is safer, but we can make the Burrow safe for him. We can put it under the Fidelius Charm -- whatever it takes."

Albus had to disagree. "Molly, I cannot in good conscious let you do that. What of Percy? What if Charlie wants to bring a friend home to visit? And let us not forget that Arthur's co-workers need to be able to reach him. Unfortunately, the Fidelius Charm is not practical for the Burrow. But I must confess that you are not the first person this summer to discuss Harry's wellbeing with me." He moved his hands, so that now he was clasping hers, and gave them a light squeeze. "I will promise you this. I will postpone the trip I had planned, and go see Harry tomorrow to discuss the will. While I am there I will indeed be checking on Harry. If I feel he is in trouble in any way, I will move up the date to bring him here. I trust you are willing to move here by August 1st?"

"Oh Albus, I would move here tomorrow if it meant Harry could be with us. August 1st is not what I want for him, but if it is the best you can do, I will accept it." She took back a hand and dapped at her eyes, though there were no tears. "Thank you, Albus. I know now that you will do right by that boy, I can see how much you care for him. He does have that affect on people – sneaking into our hearts. I can trust now that you do what your heart tells you to do." And with that, Molly got up to finally make that tea that everyone was waiting for in the parlor.

After she had left with her full tray, Albus stayed behind for a few minutes. What if Harry was as bad off as Molly feared? He had to decide, once and for all, how involved he could be in Harry's life. He helped himself to another glass of Firewhiskey. He had much to ponder, and suspected the time to make his decision was rapidly approaching.

****

Later that same evening, Harry received a short note from Professor Dumbledore requesting "the honor of a visit the following evening at your place of residence". The note required no reply, so Harry didn't send one. He wasn't sure what to think. He knew that Ginny would not betray his confidence, but could not think of anything else that might bring his Headmaster to his relatives house, unless it had something to do with that news about Sirius. He rather hoped not.

That night Harry fell into a troubled sleep. He woke a few hours later from yet another bad dream. Not wanting to go back to sleep, he looked around his room for something to occupy his mind. He knew Hermione recommended reading, but his school books wouldn't help. They were about magic, and magic made him think about school, which made him think about last year. Looking desperately around his room, he spied the books that he had found a few days ago on the bottom of the bookshelf in the guest bedroom. He figured they were safe to borrow given that his Aunt normally didn't go into that room.

He randomly picked one of the books and started reading. "The Exmoor Highwayman" sounded like a good mystery, something that would really occupy his mind. An hour later, Harry knew he had been mistaken about just what kind of book this was. Had anyone else seen him reading it, he would have been embarrassed beyond belief. But everyone else was asleep, and would be for a few more hours. And besides, the book had gotten his mind off his troubles, and had in fact captured his imagination, and he found he didn't want to put it down. Perhaps that had something to do with the lead heroine, Nicola. She sounded strangely familiar -- not too tall, slim with a nice figure, red hair, and deep brown eyes. As he read, Harry had started picturing Ginny as Nicola, and himself as the highwayman.

Harry had also noticed something else that was happening while he read, and for once, he was glad Hedwig was out hunting. He shifted to get, er, more comfortable, as he read a particular passage. 'She pressed her lips against his, her tongue meeting his in a delicate, sensual dance. His other hand slipped between the edges of her cloak and roamed up her body to cup her breast … His fingers kneaded and caressed … His hand left her breast, and Ginny made a small noise of protest at the loss … but Harry moved it to slip beneath the neckline of her dress … He was rewarded when Ginny's hand came up and began to unbutton … the hunger coursing through her, the fiery grip of desire … with a gentle, caressing movement …' Harry's own hand slipped beneath the sheets. _Ginny_, he moaned.

Later, as he settled back into his bed, he spotted the book lying forgotten on the floor. He picked it up, and slid it under his mattress. He might want to _read it _again later. He found himself pleasantly surprised by tonight's activities. Of late, he hadn't been having _those kinds_ of feelings, which didn't seem normal to him, so he was glad he had been _up_ to the task after all. _'One more thing to thank Ginny for.'_ His last thought before falling back to sleep was that, on second thought, it was probably best if Ginny never found out about how she had helped with this particular problem.

** end chapter **

**Notes**: I intend to explain all the spells/potions/etc. that I create in the notes of the Chapters they appear in, so if you ever get confused, this is where you can look.

(The) Bahatan Secret = a promise to keep a secret. You cannot discuss the secret with a person who does not already know it without just cause. Not as foolproof as the Unbreakable Vow, but also not as deadly. (from the old English behatan, meaning promise.)

"The Exmore Highwayman" is actually a book titled "No Other Love", by Candace Camp. I had to change the name (Harry would have never picked that title to read), and the description of Nicola, but the quotes from the book are exact, although parts were skipped over. Starting on page 98, if you're looking.


	6. No place like home, literally

Legal stuff: If I didn't own them in Chapter 5, what makes you think I own them in Chapter 6?

.

.

**6. No place like home, literally**

Albus Dumbledore, looking every bit the wizard he was, walked up to the front door of Number 4, Privet Drive, at precisely 11:35 PM. As it turned out, he needn't have bothered using his Put-Outer. The moment his foot touched the front stoop, the door was yanked open, and he was practically pulled inside.

A large man with a red face and bushy mustache immediately started speaking. "So you're the one that runs _that school_. I've half a mind to tell you to leave now, and take the boy with you. Why I agreed to stay awake half the night just so you could speak with the boy is beyond me. Can't you people learn to use the telephone like normal people? I presume he has been up to no good again? Is he finally getting the boot from that school of yours? I always knew he was no good. Well, if that's the case, he can't stay here. No sir, we want the little trouble-maker gone."

It was lucky that Vernon finally had to stop to take a breath; otherwise Albus thought he might be forced to stand inside the door all night.

"My good man, (Albus could feel his eyes twinkling at the obvious abuse of the word 'good') Harry is in no trouble at all. I am merely here to once again offer my condolences on the passing of his Godfather, and see that he is doing well. I suppose I could have done so in the light of day, but I thought perhaps you might prefer a less 'noticeable' time, shall we say? To answer your question, I desire to see, as well as speak, to Harry, thus my personal appearance. Will one of you be letting Harry know I am here? Or perhaps I shall just show myself to his bedroom?"

And with that, Albus quickly walked to the stairs, and up to Harry's room. He stopped briefly to gaze at the many locks on the door, and strange flap near the bottom, a sad look in his eyes. Harry must have been expecting him, because the door slowly opened before he could knock. His first glance at Harry showed what he expected. Unfortunately. Harry looked pale and much too thin, although that last part was rather common in the summer. Also unfortunate.

Albus greeted the boy as if his appearance here was an every-day occurrence. "Good evening Harry. I trust that you, unlike your Uncle, did not mind the lateness of my visit. May I enter?"

Harry stood aside and pulled the door further open. "Of course, Headmaster. I'm sorry for the mess, and for my Uncle. Please have a seat." Harry himself moved to sit on the bed, and motioned for Albus to sit at the desk. When it was clear to Harry that Albus would remain standing, Harry finally asked "What brings you here, Sir? Not that you aren't welcome. It's just that, you've never been before."

"Not quite true, Harry. I was here, once, the day after Halloween, many years ago. It was not what one would call a happy occasion. Unfortunately, neither is this." Here, Albus paused for a moment to look at the young man sitting on the bed. Gone was the anger from their last meeting, but the deep sadness remained. And yet again, he was about to add to that sadness. He wondered how Harry was coping with the burden that had been so recently revealed to him, and if that explained his appearance, but he had a more important matter first.

"Harry, yesterday in London we read Sirius' will. He has left all of his belonging, and by proxy all of the holdings of the Black family, to you. This includes not only the contents of his vault, but also his familial home and its contents. I trust you understand that this includes a certain house elf." He stopped for a moment to let this sink in. "Sirius loved you very much Harry. He knew you had no need for these things, but he wanted to give you all that he owned as a physical representation of his love for you. Do you understand?"

Albus continued to watch Harry, who was now sitting with his legs pulled up on the bed, his hands picking at his worn blanket. "I think so, Sir. Sirius is really gone, and I get his stuff. That about the sum of it?" Harry sounded calm, but his hands were trembling. He looked quickly out the window, then back down.

Albus took a seat next to Harry on the bed. "Harry, why won't you look me in the eye? I know that I have done you a great disservice, which we discussed last month. But surely you can forgive me at least enough to look at me?"

Harry looked up, but instead of looking at his Headmaster, he focused on the wall across from him. "It's not that. Not really. I just … I need to tell you ..." Harry faltered. Now that the moment was here, he was finding his nerve decidedly lacking. He risked a quick glance at the Headmaster. "Can I ask, well, did you mean what you said that day? That you care for me more than I could know?"

Albus did not know exactly where this was headed, but he took heart in Harry's willingness to talk. "Yes, Harry, I most certainly meant what I said. As I watched you grow at school, I had started to see you as much more than a mere student. I have taken pride in your accomplishments and I have worried over your trials. You may not know, but I have never been married, and never had children of my own. Strange that so many of us in the teaching profession have this in common," Albus mused, before continuing, "but, back to the matter at hand; it is true that I have grown to love you, Harry, as if you were a part of my own family."

Harry laughed, not a happy laugh, but a 'if I don't laugh I'll cry' kind of laugh. "You may change your mind about that." Harry stopped for a moment and gathered his thoughts. Silently reminding himself of his promise to Ginny to speak to an adult about his problems before something serious happened, he took a deep breath and began again. "I have to tell you something. But it's very hard for me to talk about my problems with others. I don't want to, but I know I have to. Please just let me say this." Harry took another deep breath, deciding where to start.

"In Second Year, do you remember when you asked me if there was anything I wanted to tell you? I told you no, but that wasn't true. The truth was I was hearing a voice, and it was saying it wanted to kill, but Ron and Hermione couldn't hear it, and they convinced me I shouldn't mention it to anyone. I was a scared 12 year old; I was easy to convince. But if I had told you the truth, you might have been able to figure out the monster was a basilisk, and maybe Ginny wouldn't have almost died. And all of last year, I should have told someone about the strange dreams. And now Sirius is dead. And I'm worried I might be next."

Albus quickly tried to make sense of Harry's ramblings. "Harry, what do you mean? Do you think Voldemort is planning to attack you? Have you seen something?"

"No, it's nothing like that. I mean, I do still feel his emotions from time to time, and there was that rather freaky dream involving some blind guy reading tarot cards, but no, that's not what I'm talking about. It's me I'm afraid of. What I might do to myself." Harry paused, and looked down to his hands, tracing the scar on the back of one with a finger. "See, last year, I had all those detentions with Umbridge, and she made me write lines, only without ink. She had a special quill that carved the words into my hand, and wrote the words in my blood. And it really hurt, at least at first. But sometime after Christmas, or maybe it was Easter, I realized that I hardly noticed the pain anymore. By the last detention, when everything was spinning out of control – you had left the school and Snape had stopped Occlumency lessons, my scar seemed to hurt worse, and those dreams just wouldn't stop – well, I didn't mind anymore, because the pain gave me something to focus on besides all the things that were going wrong." Harry paused again, and took a few deep breaths.

"And so, that's what I'm afraid of. Lately, I've been wanting to feel that pain again, so I can get my mind off Sirius, and being stuck here, and _everything_. I know it's a bad idea, and stupid, and all that, but ... two nights ago, when I was doing the dishes, I must have stood there holding a steak knife for like 10 minutes, just staring at it, before I realized what I was doing ... I'm afraid of the next time. What if I don't just stare? What if I use it? It's not like I want to die or anything, but I just don't know any other way to stop the thoughts. And they are constant. That I'm not going to be able to stop _him_, that Sirius and my parents died for nothing, that I'm not worth the effort that --"

"Harry, stop and take a deep breath." Albus placed his hand on Harry's back and started gently rubbing circles on it. He wasn't sure that Harry even noticed, the poor boy looked close to tears. "Now another … good, keep breathing … I imagine it took quite a bit of that famous Gryffindor courage of yours to tell me what is happening. You do realize that hurting yourself isn't really going to help anything, correct?" He received one quick nod in response. "Was two nights ago the only time you almost hurt yourself?"

Harry sighed. "Well, er, not really. I have this broken glass, it's from a mirror actually, a mirror from Sirius that could have saved him, but I didn't use it. I got mad and broke it. Anyway, sometimes I think about getting a piece of the mirror. I'm not really sure what I think I will do with the glass, I just want to hold it, maybe. But so far I haven't done."

Albus continued to sit on the bed next to Harry, and moved his arm over Harry's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. He noticed that Harry still would not look at him. It appeared the rest of the room was much more interesting. He was sure he could see tears falling onto Harry's leg now. In that moment, Albus understood the fierceness he had seen in Molly Weasley, and he remembered her parting words. _"He does have that affect on people – sneaking into our hearts. I can trust now that you will do what your heart tells you to do."_ He made a decision that would change all the careful plans he had made, but which no longer mattered. Now, only Harry mattered.

"Harry, I was going to ask you to remain here until after your birthday, at which time we would have moved you to Grimmauld Place. But I no longer believe that to be the wisest course. No, look at me," he added, when he felt Harry stiffen. "You do realize that these thoughts you have been having are not healthy. In fact, they are downright dangerous. If I were to leave you here, on your own, for a week or more, do you think you might eventually hurt yourself?"

Harry looked at Albus briefly, gave a short nod, and looked back down. He didn't want to see the disappointment he was sure was there. "I wouldn't want to, but I don't think I can stop myself for much longer."

"I have a proposition for you, Harry. It is clear to me that for your mental and physical wellbeing you cannot stay here. I don't know how to say this gently, but you need help Harry. The desire to hurt one's self is not something that will just go away if it is ignored." He paused to let that part sink in. "I cannot trust your wellbeing to just anybody. _Not_ because you are 'the Chosen One', but because I love you too much to stand aside while you fall apart. What I propose, Harry, is to take you home with me. You can leave here tonight and never return, blood protection be damned." He watched the boy carefully, but so far Harry was still looking down, although his head was tilted toward Albus, as if to hear him better. "But you must do something for me in return. First, you must agree to speak to a therapist of my choosing, for as long as said therapist deems necessary. And second, you must promise to open up to me, like you did tonight. Come to me and tell me when you are feeling overwhelmed, when you are hurting, even when you are having trouble sleeping. In other words, let me take care of you as a parent cares for a child." He could see the doubt on Harry's face. "It will be a unique experience for us both. You cannot remember your parents, and I have never had a child. We shall learn together. Can you agree to these two things Harry?"

Harry finally turned to look Albus in the eyes. He wished he was a skilled Legilimens so he could read his Headmaster's intentions. For just a second, he thought he saw, no, felt, the honesty of the Headmaster's words, but then the feeling was gone. "I don't want to talk to a therapist. It was hard enough just talking to you. I can't share private things with a stranger. A muggle would never believe any of it, and a wizard would just be interested in The-Boy-Who-Lived."

Albus was able to see the fear behind the refusal. "Leave the details to me. So what say you? Will you agree that if I can find a therapist that is acceptable to my rather high standards, that you will speak with him? And that you will come to me when you have troubles?"

Harry seemed to be deep in thought. Finally, he looked at Albus again, his eyes finally looking clear. "You are really serious? You would want to take me? Aren't you a bit too busy to deal with a mess like me?"

"Oh Harry, one of my greatest failings is that I have acted that way. My treatment of you last year was deplorable. I should never have hidden my care and concern for you. Come home with me Harry, and let us give this 'family thing' a try. What do you say? Can you agree to my conditions?"

Harry took another deep breath, and silently prayed he wasn't setting himself up for even more heartache. "Yes, I want that. I've always wanted that. To be part of a family, I mean. I'll try my best with you, I promise. And I suppose I can give therapy a try. If nothing else, it will impress Ginny."

Albus raised an eyebrow as he looked at Harry. "We'll discuss that comment at another time. Why don't you do your packing while I inform your relatives of your impending change of address. I trust you will leave nothing behind, as you will not be returning here."

After Albus had left the room, Harry took a moment to look around what would soon be Dudley's second bedroom again. His eyes came to rest on his faithful owl. "That was one of the hardest discussions I have ever had, Hedwig. I hope we don't live to regret it. What do you think? Can you get along with Fawkes?" Hedwig ruffled her feathers as if to say 'are you for real?' She watched as Harry gathered his belonging, hooting softly if she thought Harry was going to miss something. Harry was packed in record time, and was soon on his way down the stairs, dragging his trunk behind him.

Harry hadn't heard what Dumbledore said to his relatives; by the time he arrived in the living room, the talking was done. Dudley looked confused, his Aunt Petunia looked almost sad, and Uncle Vernon looked, well, he looked blank. _'Obliviate? Wonder why?_' The Headmaster, of course, appeared to be his usual calm self. But having dealt with the Dursley's for most of his life, Harry knew this was probably just a façade.

Aunt Petunia quickly said what amounted to good-bye and good luck, and left the room without giving Harry a chance to respond. Dudley, on the other hand, moved to hug Harry, but appeared to think better of it and shook his hand instead. "I was just getting to actually know you. I think I will miss you. Take care of yourself." He started to leave, but then turned back. "It would even be OK if you dropped me a note from time to time. You can send regular post, right?"

"Yeah Dud, I can do that. You take care too. Watch out for those girls at your boxing tournaments." Harry said with a genuine smile. He was surprised to find that he might actually miss Dudley as well. 'Might' being the key word.

Vernon finally seemed to notice Harry was standing there. "Well, good luck with whatever. I would much appreciate if you didn't call, didn't write, and generally pretended you never heard of us. Good bye then. Dudders, see that the door is locked after they leave. We'll be getting all the locks changed in the morning." And with that, Vernon Dursley, the man that had raised Harry since the age of 1 ½, who should have been a father figure to Harry, turned and left the room.

Albus was quick to get Harry to the door, lest he dwell on that. "Keep your wand out and put your cloak on Harry. I would prefer that no one sees you leave with me. I will apparate us to Mrs. Figg's house, where I have to send a quick message to the Order. Once you leave this property, the blood protection will begin to fail, as you will no longer be able to call this place home. The Order must know this is occurring so they do not panic. Then we can proceed to my summer home."

That last comment surprised Harry, who had just assumed they would be going to Hogwarts. _'Of course he has another place. He had to go somewhere when he left school this past year.' _Albus snapped his fingers, summoning a house elf, gave it instructions Harry couldn't hear, and sent it away with Harry's trunk and Hedwig's cage. Then he walked out the front door, and appeared to be looking at the stars as he calmly waited for his new ward. Harry gave Dudley one last smile, and covered himself with his father's old cloak. He heard Dudley's whispered "wicked" behind him as he walked out the door and grasped the hand that Albus had discretely extended to him. After a quick walk to the sidewalk, Harry felt himself leave the place that was never really a home to him for the last time. As the street lights came back to life, there was no sign of the wizards that had been on Privet Drive just moments before.

** end chapter **

**Notes:** FYI, I have a summer timeline all worked out. 'Today' was July 21st, so you can gage how much summer is left.


	7. Sarag’s Glen now this is more like it

Legal notice: I don't own Harry Potter, Albus Dumbledore, or anything else here you recognize. I used to own a stuffed bear named Michelob, but that's a story for another time.

.

.

7. Sarag's Glen; now this is more like it

Harry and Albus materialized in the cat-filled kitchen of Arabella Figg with only her cats in witness, as Mrs. Figg herself was conveniently away. "Keep your cloak on until I say it is safe, please, Harry," Albus softly said, before checking the room for security breaches, and the cats for familiar animagus. Once assured of the safety of the room, Albus walked to the far wall, and tapped an empty picture frame with his wand. The face of a very old, very ugly (in Harry's opinion), and rather drunk looking wizard appeared.

"Good evening Sir Michelob, or should I say morning? I was wondering if you could please take a message to Headquarters. Tell them that Harry Potter is safe and is in my company. I have concluded that the protection afforded by staying with his Aunt is no longer sufficient, and he will not be returning to her home again. However, he will not be moving to Headquarters. Instead, I will be escorting him personally to a new safe house. Mr. Potter and I will be unavailable for the next few days, so please hold all messages there, except in the direst of circumstances. I will be back in touch no later than the 24th. And tell Molly Weasley she may tell me 'I told you so' the next time I see her. Oh yes, my password is duck-billed platypus."

Once the old wizard had left the picture frame, Albus said "It is safe now Harry, you may remove the cloak. I just need to leave some instructions for Arabella, and then we will be off."

As Harry de-cloaked, he looked around the room. Memories of the times he had been made to stay here as a child came back to him: the trip to the circus, the movies on opening night, miniature golf games – all things he had missed while he was here, listening to stories about cats. The thoughts should have made him miserable, but after the discussion in his bedroom, he was emotionally drained.

After leaving his note on the kitchen table, Albus walked over and let Harry know it was time to go. He had Harry put the cloak on again, as you can never be too careful, and held his arm out. "Are you ready to go home, Harry?"

"Yes Sir, I think home sounds great."

****

Seconds later, Harry found himself standing outside a comfortable looking cottage surrounded on three sides by trees. To the left, he could barely make out the shape of a large building in the distance, or it could just be a rock formation; in the pale moonlight he couldn't be sure. The cottage itself was two stories tall, with faded wooden siding, and multiple chimneys. Albus lead Harry to the front door, muttered a password, and opened the door. Harry stepped inside, followed by Albus, who closed the door. He turned the lights on with a flick of a switch, and asked Harry to remove his cloak.

"Not electric, if that's what you are thinking, but a rather ingenious way to control the lighting in the house, don't you think? It took my brother Aberforth nearly 7 months to get the charms correct. I could have done it myself much faster, but felt he needed the challenge. But perhaps we can leave the tour of the cottage for tomorrow? It is nearing 2 AM, and you look dead on your feet, if you don't mind my saying. Please follow me to your room."

Albus lead Harry up the staircase, which was to the left of the door. At the top of the staircase was a short hallway, with a door at each end, and four along its length. Albus pointed to the one at the closest end of the hallway. "You may take this first room. It has its own attached bathroom, which I am sure you can find on your own. You should also find your things already in the room. Why don't you go on in, and get ready for bed. I will be in shortly to say goodnight." Albus watched as Harry let himself into the room, and then went back downstairs.

Entering, Harry was sufficiently impressed. The room stretched from the front of the house to the back, giving it three outer walls. There were windows on all three of those walls, which he was sure would give him a nice view of the trees and the valley in the daylight. The walls were pale yellow, and the room was decorated in light brown and deep green, with gold accents. Harry was sure that in the sunlight the room would feel light and airy, like being outdoors. He found his trunk had been placed under one of the windows. Since he had decided that he was too old for pajamas now, he simply took off his shoes, socks, and pants so he could sleep in his t-shirt and boxers. After a quick trip into his bathroom – _'that tub could easily hold 10 of me'_ – he climbed into the bed and waited for Albus to return, though he felt a bit silly doing so. Excluding stays in the school infirmary, he couldn't remember every having been 'tucked in', and he was sure he was much to old for that now.

When Albus did return, he was carrying a goblet, which he held out to Harry. "I suspect you could use a good, long sleep after the night we have had. I have brought you warm milk with a calming draught added in. It is not as potent as Dreamless Sleep, and will not force you to sleep. It will simply allow you to relax enough for your body to sleep naturally. You should wake when your body feels it has had enough rest, which I dare say may take awhile. When you do wake tomorrow, whatever the time, pull the rope next to your bed to alert the house elf, who will assist you in finding me. I should warn you that, as Headmaster, I am allowed the privilege of having the Hogwarts house elves oversee my personal residence. I believe you will recognize the elf that responds to your summons. We will speak then. Good night, Harry."

Albus left after Harry had taken the goblet, without performing any tucking, to Harry relief. Not wanting to think anymore tonight, he downed the milk quickly, took off his glasses, and snuggled down into the bed. His only thought before drifting to sleep was that this was, without a doubt, the most comfortable thing he had ever lain on.

****

When Harry finally awoke, he noticed that his room was filled with the afternoon sunlight. Spotting a grandfather clock on the wall near the door, he was surprised to notice it was half past one. He had slept for nearly 11 hours! He climbed out of bed, and went to the bathroom to prepare to face the day. When he finally returned to the bedroom, he braced himself against the bed, and pulled the rope. He mentally thanked the Headmaster for his warning from the night before, as an overly enthusiastic Dobby screamed "Harry Potter, you is awake!", and threw himself at Harry's legs. The attack caused Harry to tumble backward, landing on the bed.

"Dobby is hearing that the great Harry Potter is being at Headmaster Sir's house, but Dobby is not believing. Now Dobby can serve the two greatest wizards alive at the same time. Dobby hopes Dobby is good enough to serve you's both."

Harry laughed. "Dobby, please, I want to stand. No, no punishing yourself, remember?", he said as he saw Dobby reaching for the small statue of a stag on the bedside stand. "Can you please just tell me where Professor Dumbledore is? I am supposed to find him when I am up."

Dobby's whole body seemed to bob as nodded his head. "Of course, Harry Potter Sir, Headmaster Sir is in his study."

"Great Dobby, lead the way. And Dobby, please, just call me Harry."

"Dobby can do that, Harry Sir," he said cheerfully as he started for the door. He lead Harry back down the stairs, and into a large room that was reminiscent of one of the school's common rooms. It had two clusters of furniture as if it was originally two separate sitting rooms, but the dividing wall had been removed. In the center of the back wall was a large fireplace. The cluster of furniture to the left was formal in appearance, with carved wood and leather upholstery in deep colors. It was a complete set, with two couches, three chairs, and several tables between them all. At first glance, it looked uncomfortable, but Harry could see where the furniture was worn, which indicated it must be used quite often.

The cluster to the right of the fireplace looked like it would be at home in the Burrow, as none of the pieces matched. One end table was made of light oak, while the other appeared to be made out of some red colored wood, and they were two different styles. The couch was covered in a soft material with a floral pattern. The chairs on either side and across from the couch were each of a different design and pattern. Harry was sure that at least one of them was a muggle recliner. He instantly knew that this was the area he would feel most comfortable in, outside of his bedroom.

Behind the sofa, where he would have expected a wall, was a railing. The space behind the railing was obviously Professor Dumbledore's office, though why he needed two desks was beyond him. The desks were at each end of the area, and faced each other. In the space between them was a work table and chairs. The wall opposite the railing was an outside wall, and there was another fireplace in the center of that wall, with bookshelves filling the rest of the wall.

Surprisingly, the open design made the cottage feel cozy instead of cavernous. The kitchen and dining areas appeared to be on the opposite end of the house, through the two doors Harry saw there. A bathroom tucked under the staircase and a coat closet finished off the area.

Albus had stopped what he was doing when he heard Harry enter. He rose from his chair, and spread his arms wide. "Welcome to your new home Harry. 12 March Lane, Sarag's Glen, to be exact. As the house is Unplottable and Sarag's Glen is a long forgotten muggle village, I assure you I can keep you quite safe here. And should there be any trouble, Dobby or another house elf can quickly whisk you to the gates of Hogwarts. Should that occur, I ask that you immediately make your way to Gryffindor tower so I may know where to find you."

Albus left his work area, and made his way to one of the recliners. He motioned for Harry to join him, and he did so by having a seat on the couch.

Albus spoke first. "You may do as you like while you are here, within reason, of course. No hunting for trolls, for example. Without Mr. Weasley here to assist, we cannot be assured your success in such an endeavor. I will trust you to use your best judgment, and you may come to me if you are still uncertain. I will share with you the same advice I often shared with your father and godfather: if you are not absolutely positive it is allowed, it probably isn't. A bit of advice he rarely followed, as Professor McGonagall can attest. Even with your impressive number of detentions last year, you have a way to go to catch up to him." Albus paused for a moment, apparently lost in thought, but the moment passed, and then he seemed to come back to himself. "But, that is perhaps a discussion for another time. I believe we have more serious topics to discuss."

Harry looked at his Headmaster briefly, and nodded. He tried to keep his head up this time, wanting to appear more confident than he really was. He wasn't able to maintain eye contact, and so settled for looking out the back window with occasional glances at the Headmaster. "I'm not sure where you want me to begin, Sir. I think I covered most of it last night."

As Harry was saying this, Dobby walked into the room, and brought Harry a tray with sandwiches and other foods, and a large glass of water. "Why don't you get started eating, and I will get started on the talking. First, the loose ends from Sirius' will. You do recall that part of our discussion?" Harry nodded as he ate his sandwich. "Good. Now, may we, that is to say the Order, continue to use your house as our headquarters?" Another nod. "Excellent, thank you. I took the liberty yesterday of insuring Kreacher cannot leave the house until other arrangements can be made. That should sufficiently stop any more of his antics. Is that acceptable?" Harry swallowed and agreed.

"Good, there is one last thing before we complete our tour. I have contacted a therapist, and he has agreed to see you tomorrow. Do you feel you are in danger of doing anything before that time?" Harry looked Albus in the eye, and answered with a quite 'no, sir' before looking away.

"I know it will be difficult; but you found the courage to talk to me. You will find it again. And I believe you will be comfortable talking with Doctor Southwyck. He is a muggle, Harry, whose younger sister is a witch. It was her trouble adapting to living in two separate worlds that prompted him to become a therapist. Over the years, he has helped many muggle-born and squib adolescents adjust to the trials of living what amounts to two lives. So you see, he is uniquely qualified to help you. And because he is a muggle, and associated with only muggle-borns and squibs, he is unknown to the majority of the wizarding world. Are you aware that all Healers and Doctors who work with wizards take an Oath of Confidentiality?"

"No Sir. I guess I've never really thought about it. I know that muggle Doctors have what they call doctor-patient confidentiality. I suppose it is like that?"

"It is similar in nature, but much deeper. It is of course a magical oath. They literally cannot discuss your case with anyone that is not authorized to know. Meaning that Doctor Southwyck cannot be coerced, in any way, to reveal anything you share with him with anyone other than myself, and that only for as long as I am your guardian."

Harry thought this over. "That's good. It helps to know that I won't be reading the details of my sessions in the Daily Prophet. That reminds me, did you know they wanted to interview me? I didn't bother to respond. I think Hedwig might have given them a response for me." He smiled as he remembered what Hedwig had done on the letter before she had picked it up and flown off with it.

Albus himself smiled, see the boy already relaxing. "Well then, Harry, let me show you the rest of the cottage, and then you can unpack."

They went upstairs, where Albus pointed out the door at the far end, which was his own room. "It is the master bedroom. Yours, as the heir's room, is the exact opposite of mine. The doors in between lead to two guest rooms, a bathroom for them to share, and a storage closet. I leave you here to unpack, as I have paperwork that must be completed before it has the chance to multiply. I want you to be comfortable here, so feel free to have Dobby re-arrange your furniture if you like. I will have him come and get you when it is time for dinner."

Harry entered his room, and gave it a thorough inspection, picking up knick-knacks and looking in drawers. The room passed his inspection; his only change was to drag an over-stuffed chair closer to the window, so he could read in the natural sunlight. For the next few hours, he lost himself in one of the books he'd liberated from his Aunt's collection, this one was about an American shipping Captain that 'befriends' a just-legal British orphan girl. _'Maybe she just liked his accent.' _ He idly wondered what the public would say if they knew that he, Harry Potter, the boy who mocked Death Eaters to their faces, liked cheesy romance novels. He read them for their historical significance, really he did.

** end chapter **

**Notes:** People always give Albus candy passwords, and that's fine for his office, but I thought he should use something less predictable for Order business. I tried to find something that was a bit whimsical to fit his personality. 12 March Lane, Sarag's Glen, is in honor of my middle child, Sara G, born March 12th.


	8. Drivers, start your engines

Legal Schpegal: Did you recognize that? Oh, well I don't own that part. That stuff that was new to you, yeah, that's the stuff that's mine. Exciting, isn't it?

.

8. Drivers, start your engines

Harry started to feel the depression settling back in after dinner. The high of leaving Privet Drive for good had worn off, and in its place was apprehension about his new living arrangements. He was living with his Headmaster! And he thought this was a good idea? For as much as the man proclaimed to love him and care for him, they didn't really know each other. To call this situation strange was an understatement. But, he had to admit, the man had already shown him more welcome than the Dursleys had the entire 14 years he had lived with them. And he and the Headmaster had made an agreement to try to be like a family. With this in mind, instead of hiding in his room, he sat on "his" couch. He would not let himself dwell on that desire to feel pain again. He picked up a travel book that was sitting on the coffee table, and started reading. When Albus gave him a questioning look, he simply stated he didn't want to be alone right now. Albus nodded, and went back to work while keeping an eye on Harry. If he noticed the way Harry would look at the scar on his hand, he said nothing. Finally, just before midnight, Harry announced he was ready to sleep. When Albus asked if he was feeling alright, Harry answered "yes, now". The two headed upstairs together, saying goodnight in the hall.

At 9:00 the next morning, a reluctant Harry and determined Albus stepped outside to apparate to his first therapy appointment. Taking some calming breaths of the clean mountain air, Harry took his first good look at the surrounding area. It turned out what he had seen last night was a large building off in the distance. A castle, from the looks of it, and it looked familiar, like an altered memory. In fact, it looked like Hogwarts. But that couldn't be right, the towers were in the wrong places. And Hogwarts didn't have greenhouses in the front. Unless … "Sir, that castle up there. Is that Hogwarts?"

Albus, who had been watching Harry as he worked out the mystery, smiled. "Very good, Harry. It took Minerva almost a full week to recognize it the first time she visited."

"Well, it seemed familiar, but things were in the wrong places. Then I noticed the greenhouses and it clicked. We're behind it."

"Correct. In the time of the founders, Sarag's Glen was the entry-way to the castle for muggle-born students and their families. If you follow March Lane far enough, you will arrive at what was once the visitors gate to the castle. However, after Hogsmeade was built, all traffic entered from its gate, and the visitor's gate was permanently closed. It is safe to explore the pathway and area near the gate sometime if you desire, but I must ask you not to try to open the gate itself. I wouldn't want to see you transported to the Himalayas, as it can be rather cold there. Well, Harry, enough stalling, I should think. Let us get to our appointment. After all, the sooner we get there, the sooner we can return, and you can explore."

In the blink of an eye, they arrived in an alleyway. They walked out of the alleyway, turned left, and continued until they arrived in front of a simple one-story building. The sign out front, painted in bright orange with white lettering, declared:

Dr. Tony Southwyck  
You can do it.  
I can help.

Harry began to get nervous. It was one thing to confess his problems to his Headmaster, a man that he had known for five years, and who he was pretty sure cared deeply for him. But this was a stranger. How could he possibly do this? He suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe. He needed to get away from here – go somewhere where nobody knew about magic or Harry Potter, and they never used the word prophecy. Albus had been watching as Harry's mini panic attack set in, and moved quickly to his side. He instructed Harry to breathe deeply while he lightly rubbed circles on his back. When he saw Harry's color returning, he spoke. "You can do this, Harry. It is, I would suppose, much easier than stealing an egg from a dragon, and unlike a basilisk, Dr. Southwyck has no venom. However, if it would make you feel better, I can ask Fawkes to stand by should you need to fly to safety."

Harry was sure the Headmaster was teasing him, and was thankful for the effort. "That's not necessary, Sir although I might feel better if I had that sword handy." Harry forced a laugh. "Honestly, I'm all right. I can do this. And apparently he can help," Harry said, pointing to the sign. "I hope his advice is better than his color choice."

"I can assure you it is. After you," Albus said, opening the door, and together they entered the building. The waiting room was empty, but not for long. A man, the Doctor, Harry presumed, soon entered the room. Seeing him, the first word that came to Harry's mind was 'ordinary'. The man was perfectly common: he was slightly tall, of average weight and build, with dark hair and friendly brown eyes. A good looking guy, he supposed, but someone you might not notice in a crowd. He greeted Albus and introduced himself to Harry, then, to Harry's surprise (and relief), he invited them into the office together.

They spent half an hour describing the night Albus came and retrieved Harry, which is to say that Albus spoke while Harry looked at his hands. Albus finished his tale with their promise to try to be a family. His part done, Albus left the room, leaving Harry alone with the Doctor. It took a bit of persuading, but eventually Harry gave a brief – _'very brief, no need for details yet' – _summary of his life. The Doctor seemed the most interested in Harry's Fifth Year; in his troubles with Delores Umbridge, his strange dreams and emotions, and how he felt about the distance forced on him by his Headmaster. Harry reluctantly described how he felt about the pain from his detentions, and admitted how he had been craving that pain this summer, though he added rather adamantly that he had never acted on it.

Harry had surprised himself by revealing so much to a person that he didn't even really know, but getting troubled kids to open up was part of his job, and Dr. Southwyck was _very good_ at his job. He was never forceful or judgmental, and let Harry set the pace without letting him stall for time. He had cleared his schedule just so he could give Harry as much time as needed. For now, he seemed to be simply listening, trying to get a mental picture of his patient's wellbeing.

Harry was grateful for that. He knew that the questions would come later, but he was having enough trouble just telling his story. Harry ended by listing the things that seemed to trouble him the most. When he was done, the Doctor asked Harry to wait in the outer room and spoke briefly with Albus, before calling Harry back again. Harry retook his seat, feeling nervous. Was the Doctor going to tell him he was crazy? Was he? Sitting back into the chair, he looked up to the Doctor as if telling him he was ready.

When they were all seated, Dr. Southwyck spoke. "Well, Harry, I think we had a good talk today. I have a good idea of where you are and where we need to get you. Our priority is dealing with this obsession you have with pain, which has lead you to think about harming yourself, even if only in a generic sense. The fact that you haven't done so is very encouraging, as is your admission that you know the thoughts are dangerous. Many people who can't admit that eventually end up hospitalized or even killing themselves. None of us want to see that happen to you.

"I don't see you as a danger to yourself. I don't believe you really _want_ to harm yourself, or you would have done so by now. I think the desires you feel are your subconscious mind trying to get your attention. Your mind's way of letting you know there is something wrong, if you will. That is not to say that you will never give in and hurt yourself, only that I believe it is unlikely. There are no guarantees in my line of work. But, as long as you are not acting on the thoughts, and understand that doing so would be wrong, I think we can stick with outpatient treatment. Albus and I have agreed to weekly sessions at least through September, at which time the three of us can meet again to reassess the situation. Between our sessions, you have to agree that if you get to where you think you might actually harm yourself, you will immediately go to Albus. If he is not available, you can call me, no matter what time it is. You have a telephone, correct?"

Seeing a nod from Albus, he continued. "Now, let's say the worst happens, and you do end up hurting yourself. In that case I would most likely recommend hospitalization. Given the fact that you do understand the danger of such an act, if you were to do it anyway, we would have to consider you a serious threat to yourself. For your safety and privacy, it would have to be a muggle hospital. This is a worst-case scenario, Harry, and I really don't see it getting to that. But I want to be upfront and honest with you, so you know exactly what to expect from me. You need to be aware of the consequences if you act."

Harry had gone pale, but managed to look up and give the Doctor a brief nod. "I understand. I'm not going to do anything, I promise."

Dr. Southwyck nodded, having expected such a response. "Great, that's what I wanted to hear, and we're going to hold you to that promise. First, let's get you past this hurdle, and then we can tackle the other issues. Don't think for a moment that I didn't notice your unwillingness to discuss your previous home life." He stopped for a moment to check his notes. "For the most part, you should consider me your sounding board; the person you can dump all your problems on. And with me, you don't have to worry that I might start treating you differently or get mad at you and tell your secrets. With friends, those are constant worries, aren't they? So you bring your troubles to me. I can take it. You'll be surprised how much it helps just to have someone who can listen, and help you see your problems from a new perspective."

He leaned back in his chair. "Are we in agreement?" When both Harry and Albus answered yes, Dr. Southwyck rose from his seat, and motioned for them to do the same. "Fine then, we will schedule your appointments for Tuesday evenings, at 6:30. I don't see any other patients that evening, so you needn't worry about running into anyone as you come or go." He shook both of their hands and bid them a good day. Harry and Albus made their way back to the alley, and from there back home.

"You have got to teach me how to do that." Harry pronounced when they arrived back at their front door. "That is much better than a Portkey."

"I am glad to know you can be so enthusiastic about learning. Lessons are available to all Sixth Years, but perhaps we can go over the fundamentals when we return to Hogwarts to prepare the school."

Harry was surprised. "We'll be going to Hogwarts before school? Does that mean I won't have to go back to headquarters?"

"Oh yes," Albus confirmed. "I always return to Hogwarts in mid-August. I am not surprised that you do not want to return to headquarters, but had worried about keeping you from your friends. I am sorry to say that, current circumstances being what they are, the Burrow is not an option." When Harry grudgingly agreed, he continued. "I think it best if you would come to Hogwarts with me, and I confess I would be happy for the company. Normally it is just faculty and their families, which, just between the two of us, can be rather dull. It will seem rather empty without other students, but it will give us more time together. If we are truly to be a family, we need to get to know each other better."

They entered the house and enjoyed a late lunch. When Harry was leaving the dining room, his eyes fell on a long object leaning against the wall - his Firebolt. Harry picked the broom up carefully, and began to inspect it for any damage. Albus spoke up, "It is completely safe. It appears Madam Hooch is eager to get you back on the Quidditch pitch. She has a nephew who works for the Quidditch World Cup oversight committee, and arranged for him to have the broom checked by an official Quidditch Equipment Judge, who passed it with flying colors, though not literally, of course." Albus chuckled at his little pun, while Harry rolled his eyes.

"May I take her for a quick flight, Sir?"

"You may, Harry. You can fly along March Lane from here to the old Hogwarts gate. Please do not fly in the other direction, as Muggles have been known to wander into the area. Near Hogwarts you will find a small field, and you may use that as well. Enjoy yourself, but be careful and return by five o'clock. Here, take my watch so you are not late." Albus handed his watch to Harry, who placed it carefully in his pocket and headed out the door.

Harry took to the air quickly, and couldn't believe how great it felt. He spotted Hedwig perched in a tree, and called to her. "Here, girl. We've never had the chance to fly together before. Want to come with me to find Hogwarts?" They took off for the castle in the distance. When they reached the meadow, Hedwig perched in a tree and watched Harry as he practiced his dips and dives, chasing an imaginary snitch across the meadow. Harry finally landed to rest for a bit, and then challenged Hedwig to a race to the old guard house.

Hedwig won when Harry turned to find her, and flew into a low a shrub, not that he cared. It was the most fun he had had since, well, since he wasn't sure when. Suffice to say, it had been a long time. He and Hedwig landed near the guard house, and Harry decided to take a break and do some exploring. He glanced at the old gate, but decided he didn't want to find out if it would really send him to the Himalayas, and steered clear of it. Instead, he went into the old guard house to look around. The building was in surprisingly good shape considering it hadn't been used in well over 500 years. There was a thin layer of dust on the furniture, but it all looked sturdy enough to use. Harry tested a few of the things in the room, when he spotted a small door in the back corner of the room.

He walked over to the room and put his hand on the doorknob. When he touched it, Harry felt a strange sensation, like he knew he should go through the door. He hesitated for a moment. What if this wasn't safe? But Professor Dumbledore had told him he was free to look around, as long as he didn't try to open the school gate. His mind made up, he pulled the door open to find … a really small closet.

He was a bit disappointed at first. But that strange sensation was getting stronger, so he made a rash decision and entered the closet, pulling the door closed behind him. He instantly felt a pull similar to a Portkey, and blinked. The closet seemed bigger than it was a minute ago. Starting to panic, Harry opened the door and stumbled out. It didn't take long for him to realize he wasn't in an abandoned guard house any more.

**** end chapter ****

**Notes: I had a few people asking if Harry was cutting and/or suicidal; he definitely isn't doing either, **so I tried my best to make that clear in this chapter. Harry has some major things going on in his life, and at 16, it makes sense to me that he's having trouble dealing with it. Oh, and I'm not a psychologist, but I play one on the internet. To anyone who has a problem with the therapy session, I say this: make-believe story, make-believe therapy.

For those who wondered about the chapter title, it a) hopefully signifies that the action will be revving up (though it's a few more chapters before it really takes off); and b) it's a nod to the Dr.'s motto, which I paraphrased from Home Depot (you can do it, we can help). It came to me while I was watching Tony Stewart, then driver of the #20 Home Depot Toyota in the NASCAR Sprint Cup series (back in June, 2008; he has since gotten a new team and sponsor, but Old Spice's motto – the mark of a man – doesn't work as well.) That said, one guess where Dr. Southwyck's first name came from.


	9. A meeting of the minds

Legal Schpegal: I do not own anything that came out of any of the Harry Potter books, movies, DVDs, games, or musical scores. Are there Harry Potter greeting cards? If so, I don't own anything from those either.

.

.

9. A meeting of the minds

Looking around the rectangular room, Harry realized he had re-appeared in a chapel; the large crucifix hanging behind an altar being his biggest clue. It was rather small, and like the guard house, it had the feel of an unused space, and everything in the chapel seemed to be from an earlier time. He looked behind himself, and discovered he had stepped out of, not a closet, but an old-fashioned confessional, the side the priest would use. He walked slowly toward the altar, which was made completely from white marble, and noticed a snake carved into the closest leg. There was an open bible on top of the altar, and he stepped closer to take a better look. It appeared to be written in Latin, and Harry knew that most religions now used native languages, so this seemed to confirm his theory that the chapel was unused. But then he noticed that there was no layer of dust here. Someone was going to the trouble of keeping the chapel reasonably clean. But who? And why was there a snake carved into the altar? Was this a place used for some sort of dark rituals, like you would sometimes hear about on the late-night news?

Harry grasped his wand tighter while he considered his options. He decided he should look around first, and try to figure out where he was. That way, when he returned, he could tell the Professor, presuming that entering the confessional would in fact take him back. Harry stepped away from the altar and into the center of the room then slowly turned in a circle to look around the room. And that's when he spotted the other animal designs – there was a large bird carved into a nearby chair, a lion candleholder, and over there a … ferret maybe? Suddenly, he understood. They were the symbols of all four Hogwarts founders, and they were worked into the furnishings and tapestries around the chapel. This had to be the Hogwarts chapel! Harry quickly went to the doors, and stepped outside. Sure enough, there was Hogwarts in all her glory. Looking away from the school, Harry could see the old gate, and beyond that he could just make out the guard house. Funny how he had never noticed those before. _'Notice me not charms?'_ Harry hadn't felt this keyed up in a long time, and he started laughing. He would bet anything that Fred and George had never found this.

Suddenly, as he turned back around, he felt a sense of confusion. He didn't understand why he was laughing. _'Wait a minute. I'm not confused. Voldemort is. He felt my feelings. I made him laugh.'_

He went back into the chapel, closing the doors behind him, and walked back to the confessional. Confident that Hogwarts wouldn't fail him, he stepped back into the confessional, and pulled the door closed. This time he was prepared as he felt himself being transported, and within moments, he was stepping out of the closet, and back into the guard house.

When he went outside, Hedwig was waiting for him. Needing to share his excitement, he told her, "Wait until you hear what I found. This is turning out to be a great day. When we get back, I've got to write to my friends and tell them about this. Oh, I guess I better ask the Professor what I can tell them first. I hope we aren't late." Harry remembered the watch he had borrowed, and pulled it out of his pocket to check the time. The problem was, he had no idea how to read the watch. "Maybe we should just head back now, OK?" He got on his broom, and together they flew back to the cottage that was now their home.

By the time Harry got back that evening, it was almost 5:00. He went to his room to put away his Firebolt and clean up, and relaxed on his bed, thinking of nothing in particular. _'I think I just managed to clear my mind of all emotion. Wicked! … oh … crap.'_ When Dobby came and got him a short while later, he joined the Headmaster in the dining room. During the meal (which was a typical Hogwarts meal, just scaled back for two people), Harry told Albus about his flight, and finding the passage to the chapel. He was afraid that he would be in trouble for once again acting before thinking, and braced himself for the berating he was sure would come. He was, therefore, surprised when Albus chuckled. Harry looked up to see the man smiling. "Relax Harry, you are not in trouble. I did tell you you could explore that area. I should have remembered that particular trick of Hogwarts. Can you tell me why you chose to enter the closet in the first place?"

Recalling what he had felt, he explained, "When I put my hand on the doorknob, I felt a something, a tingle, like when you fall asleep on your hand. And I just felt like I was supposed to go into the closet. The longer I stood there, the stronger the feeling got. I guess that sounds pretty stupid to you."

Albus settled into his chair, and began his explanation. "Not in the least, Harry. What you felt was the magic in the closet – Hogwarts' magic. Hogwarts has been in existence for a very long time, and in all that time, has hosted thousands of magical beings. Its walls have seen more continuous magic than any other structure in all of Europe. I believe, as have many of my predecessors, that she has achieved, maybe not quite awareness, but most certainly an ability to interact with the magic around her.

"Now consider this, Harry," Albus continued. "You have a connection with Hogwarts that few can claim. You have strong ties to not one, but two of her founders. After all, your Parselmouth derives from Slytherin himself, albeit indirectly. And did you not manage to call a certain sword to you in your second year? You have in the past considered Hogwarts your true home, although that will hopefully be changing. And you have acted many times to protect the school and her students." By now, Albus was looking at Harry with a smile, and that darn twinkling in his eyes.

Harry, as often happened around his Headmaster, felt like he had missed something. "Yes, but why would that matter? I'm sure lots of students have done that."

"Only you would think so," the old man replied. "In fact, it is quite rare for a teenager to stand and defend his school. For make no mistake, that is what you did last year, Harry. Every time you defied Dolores Umbridge, with every secret meeting of that delightful army, you defended all that Hogwarts stands for. And in doing so, you deepened your connection to the school. It will be interesting to see how this new connection further manifests itself in your remaining years."

Harry took a moment to consider Albus' words, nodding his understanding, then spoke again. "Sir, there was one other strange thing. I was really enjoying myself today, so much so that I started laughing. Then all of the sudden, I felt confused, like I didn't know why I was laughing. That's when it hit me. I was feeling Voldemort's confusion. That's nothing new, we already knew that I can feel his emotions, but I think he was confused because he felt my happiness. I think I made him feel my emotions. Is that possible?"

Albus took a sip of his wine as he considered how best to answer. He had promised to tell Harry everything, but would knowing this lead to him doing something rash? Well, Harry had put his trust in Albus; it was time for Albus to put his trust in Harry. "Yes, I would think it would be. I can see no reason why the connection would only go one way. In the past, Voldemort has been the stronger of the two of you, more powerful and knowledgeable. But with every confrontation with him, you grow stronger as he grows weaker. I am speaking mentally, not physically, although I wonder about that as well. In hindsight, he may regret using your blood in his ritual; but I digress. My point being, you are truly becoming his equal. Thus, you are able to project yourself, unintentionally of course, through the link much like he does. As you gain better control over your emotions and your magic, you may eventually be able to intentionally enter his mind, as he has done to you. But that is a ways off, and of course not something to be attempted unsupervised. For tonight, let us put this somber conversation to rest, and enjoy the rest of our evening."

As they excused themselves from the table, Albus told Harry that some letters had come while he was out, and they were waiting for him on the table by his couch. He was cautioned not to mention his location or who he was with in his responses. But before he read his letters, Harry wanted to take care of something. He made his way to the bookshelves behind Albus' desk. In light of their discussion, he felt there was a book he needed to read. He finally found it, sandwiched between Hogs and Goats: Friends or Food? and Hogwarts Most Gruesome Deaths. It was time to find out what all the fuss was about. He planned to start reading it as soon as he was done with his letters.

Harry settled comfortably on the couch, and started reading his letters. Ron wanted to know if he had really left the Dursley's for good. _"Good news, that. If you weren't sprung by your birthday, Fred, George, and I were going to come get you again."_ Hermione also seemed relieved that he had left, and wanted to make sure he really was safe. _"I'm with the Weasley's now, and no one will say who you are with. I hope it isn't Professor Snape, as that would be unpleasant, but I can't imagine who else could keep you safe. Ron is convinced you are staying with Professor Flitwick. I don't know where he gets his ideas!"_ As usual, Ginny's was a bit more personal. _"I know Professor Dumbledore came to see you. You kept your promise, didn't you? I knew you would. Oh Harry, I'm so glad someone finally listened to you."_ They had all wanted him to give them hints as to where he was. Ginny's ended with _"I'm working on a new plan to find out how to get a mystical money bag. I don't have the details worked out yet, but it involves ants, honey, and Fred's underpants. I think I'm finally on to something."_

Harry quickly retrieved his writing materials, and set to work answering his letters. He gave them all a highly edited version of his visit from the Professor, saying good-bye to his relatives, and the brief stop at Mrs. Figg's. He had to get a little creative from there: Professor Dumbledore took him "somewhere with lots of trees and a great view" where he was staying with "someone Dumbledore trusted" – _'he trusts himself, right?' – _ and he would get to "see other people sometimes so he wouldn't go bonkers being locked up". He told Hermione he had a project for the four of them to work on at school, not even realizing he had automatically included Ginny. He wanted her to research how to update the Marauders Map because "asking Professor Lupin would be cheating." He was sure she would welcome the task.

At the end of Ginny's letter, he added: "Promise kept. It was hard, but I knew I had to do it. Things were a bit worse than I lead you to believe. You probably knew that, didn't you? But I'm going to get better. I can't explain anymore in a letter. The next time I see you, we'll have to find somewhere private so I can tell you about it. That is, if your boyfriend won't mind. If that's what you're calling Dean. You never did explain that to me." It took Harry five minutes to decide to close the letter with a simple "thanks for everything, Harry". He felt obliged to drop a quick note to Fred and George and warn them to stay away from anything with honey when Ginny was around. Satisfied, Harry sent the letters with Hedwig, and started reading his new book.

Harry fell asleep a bit easier than usual, probably because he had had such as busy day. As he drifted off, he realized that he hadn't thought much about feeling pain today. Maybe talking to Dr. Southwyck really did help.

Over the next few days, Harry and Albus settled into what would become their routine. Over breakfast, they discussed how Harry had slept, how he was feeling, and any upcoming plans. Harry was also required to sample at least three things every meal in an attempt to get him eating again. After breakfast, they went their separate ways; Albus to work in his study, while Harry usually went outside. Occasionally, Albus would have to make a short trip to Hogwarts or for Order business. When this happened, Harry was asked to stay close to the cottage, and a house-elf was always around to keep an eye on Harry. Otherwise, Albus made it a point to always be home for meals.

Their lunches together were followed by an hour talking together, mostly about themselves. Harry now knew the real reason why Albus used candy names as passwords (not to make it easier for students in need to guess, as was the popular belief, rather, it had started as a joke, and he continued it because it annoyed Minerva), and Albus knew why Harry didn't like chocolate milk (he was only allowed chocolate milk if it was starting to go bad and Dudley wouldn't drink it anymore). In the afternoon while Albus went back to work, Harry spent time reviewing his school books from the past five years or browsing some of the more interesting books he found on the bookshelves. Then after dinner, they relaxed by playing chess, or an American muggle game called Life. It had been given to Albus by Professor Flitwick one Christmas, and Albus loved the way the dial would spin. After the game, Harry tended to stay in the family room until he was tired enough he thought he could fall right to sleep.

It was during one of their evening games that Harry brought up a tough subject. "The thing is, Sir, that I think _he's_ still getting in. I'm still having the occasional weird dreams and such. Only, now I know the prophecy." Harry paused to see that Albus was paying attention. He didn't want to do this, but he could really use one less thing to worry about. And he was supposed to go to Albus with his problems, right? "I understand why you didn't teach me Occlumency last year, but do you think you could try now?"

Albus put down his plastic car and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands. "Ah yes, Occlumency. Yet another way I failed you last year, my boy. I am afraid that I did not give Professor Snape's cantankerous personality proper consideration. Rest assured, if I still believed that Occlumency was the right path, I would certainly teach you myself. However, after much contemplation, I no longer believe it is the answer to your problem. Remember, Harry, Occlumency protects the mind against external penetration, and unfortunately what is happening between your mind and Voldemort's is not, strictly speaking, external. It is a connection directly from one mind to the other, like opening a door between two rooms. And too, the sharing of your thoughts and emotions can be instigated without a conscious act on either part, something that would be necessary if we were dealing with Legilimency, which is of course what Occlumency was created to counter. Indeed, the ability to view events through the other's eyes is unprecedented, even among the best Legilimens. As such, Occlumency would at best soften the connection, but could not stop it." Albus placed a hand on Harry's knee as the boy visibly paled.

"Do not fear this, Harry. As I mentioned when we discussed this link the other day, I believe that you are growing stronger, and that some day you will have as much control over the connection as he does. Until that time, there are some steps we can take to protect you. There are of course potions that can be taken to stop dreams, such as Dreamless Sleep, but they cannot be taken long term, as dreams are important for our mental well-being. I shall look into finding an alternative that will work for you." He saw that Harry seemed to relax at that suggestion. "And the prophecy can be protected. There is a charm which works much like the Fidelius Charm, but what it hides is memories. You choose a specific set of memories, in this case memories related to the prophecy, and you lock them away in your mind. They cannot be accessed unless you allow them to be."

Harry perked up at this. "That sounds good. I could lock away everything I don't want him to know."

"Tempting, but not quite," Albus replied. "There is a limit to how much can be hidden. Think of it like this: a teenage boy who does not want to clean his room may try to hide the mess under his bed. And for a while this will work, but eventually it gets too crowded under there. He pushed a shoe under the right-hand side of the bed, and his broken broomstick pops out the left-hand side. Understand?" He paused while Harry nodded. "Excellent. So if you want to go this route, you will have to choose what you want to hide carefully. Other than the prophecy, what would you like to lock away?"

Harry spent a few minutes thinking. "Well, other than the prophecy, the only real secret I have is you – I mean your guardianship. Can we include that?"

"That is an excellent suggestion. So, if you are ready?" he asked, motioning for Harry's permission. At Harry's affirmative, Albus had him lean back on the couch so his body was fully supported. "Now, concentrate on those two things which you wish to hide – the prophecy and my guardianship – and I will cast the spell twice, one for each secret. Ready?" He lightly touched the side of Harry's head with his wand. "Celo hic Prophecy. Celo hic Guardianship."

Harry felt two waves of cold travel across his brain, much like what Muggles called 'brain freeze'. He shook his head to clear it away, but this only seemed to confuse him. "Professor, what exactly was that again?"

"Never you mind, Harry. Life will have to wait. Let us get you up to bed. All will be clear to you in the morning." Albus pulled Harry off the couch, and helped him to his room. He made certain Harry was settled into the bed before pulling up the covers and turning out the light. Once in his own room, Albus reflected on the trust Harry had just unwittingly shown. Perhaps he really could do this. One thing was certain, he had a new respect for Arthur Weasley.

-000-

One morning at breakfast, Albus told Harry to put on his best muggle clothes, as Harry had a Doctor's appointment that morning, and they would do some muggle shopping afterwards. Harry was confused; his appointment wasn't supposed to be until Tuesday. Albus explained he would be seeing a healer because, as he politely put it, to be the Boy Who Lived, he did in fact need to be alive, and there was no sense in tempting fate. So, once Harry appeared in his nicest clothes, as oversized as ever but not as many stains, he joined his Headmaster in the entryway. Albus was dressed almost normal for a Muggle, if said Muggle had no fashion sense. They stepped outside together, and apparated away, re-appearing behind a row of hedges.

They walked a few blocks until they came to a small house with a sign that declared "Doctor Bombay, general practice, by appointment only". A smaller sign had been added stating "not taking new patients". Albus explained that that was just to keep the Muggles away.

Inside it looked like any other muggle waiting room, with rows of chairs and old magazines on the tables. Harry recognized them as muggle magazines. He was just thumbing though one when he heard his name called. He and Albus followed the nurse down a hall into an exam room. Unlike the waiting room, this was obviously magical. In the middle of the room was a bed, higher than usual, but otherwise a normal bed. It was covered by a hand-made quilt, and there was a bath robe and a pair of slippers sitting on it. Harry was told to step behind the screen to change, and to wait for the Doctor on the bed.

After Harry had changed, he sat on the edge of the bed, careful to keep his bathrobe closed. He nervously asked, "So, Professor, is this guy a wizard or a muggle?"

"Dr. Bombay is definitely a healer, Harry. But he plays golf with a group of muggle Doctors, so he has adopted that title. Personally, I think he is a bit obsessed with all things muggle, much like our friend Arthur Weasley. The last time I was here for a check-up, he insisted I needed an 'EKG', but when he admitted he didn't actually know what one was, I had to decline. But rest assured, he knows his healing, and will behave himself with you."

The door opened, and in walked the strangest Doctor Harry had ever seen.

** end chapter **

**Notes:** Another Spell: Celo hic; literally 'hide this'. So celo hic prophecy is 'hide this prophecy'. No one can get the information from him unless he decides to share it. If you're wondering, my guess is that veritaserum still would work because it would cause him to decide to share the information, but I'm no potions master, so don't hold me to that.

The chapel is what I call second-hand canon. In an interview on one of the movie DVDs, the director says that Jo mentioned there was a chapel when they were discussing the grounds. The name Dr. Bombay is from the old TV show "Bewitched".


	10. A penny saved, and other clichés

Legal stuff: I don't own Harry Potter, his affiliates or his subsidiaries.

Pay attention, boys and girls, there will be a quiz at the end.

=parseltongue being spoken=

.

.

**10. A penny saved, and other clichés**

The man that walked in had to be at least 100 if he was a day over 20. He was wearing plaid pants, a yellow polo shirt, and tennis shoes. What Harry had first thought was a white robe was actually a lab coat, just a little longer than would be normal. He had a stethoscope hanging from his neck like a necktie, and Harry wondered if he even knew how to use it. His hair was as long as Dumbledore's but it was streaked with gray, and braided down his back. His beard was cropped close to his face, probably so it wouldn't get in the way. Harry shifted nervously on the bed.

When the Doctor spoke it was a bit too loud, and too cheerfully for Harry's taste. "Well, well, what have we here? The chart says teenage male, but you can't be much over, what, 13?"

"I'm sixteen next week, thank you very much," answered a rather offended Harry.

The Doctor snorted. "Now, now, no need to get your knickers in a twist. I'm just going by what I see. Have you ever heard of eating, son?"

Harry glanced at his professor, who quickly stepped in. "Harry has been having trouble eating recently, Bernard, but he has always been a bit small for his age. I assure you he is nearly sixteen."

The Doctor snorted again. "If you say so. Well, let's see what you've got hiding under that bathrobe, shall we?"

As the Doctor started moving closer, Harry let out a small yelp. "Professor, I don't think I want …

Albus cut in, "Bernard, please, you are going to give Harry a heart attack. You promised you would be on your best behavior. Now Harry, just relax. Dr. Bombay is just attempting to be funny. An attempt that is sadly failing, Bernard!"

"Sorry, sonny, I just meant to give you a full-body scan and see what's going on in-your-sides," the strange Doctor said, not sounding the least bit sorry. "Why don't you just relax, and lay back on the bed. This won't hurt a bit, well, unless it does."

One hour, one urine specimen – _'Pomfrey __never__ asks for that!'—_ four scans, and dozens of questions later, the Doctor excused himself to review his results while Harry got dressed. When he reentered the room, he found Harry sitting on the edge of a much-lower bed, Albus sitting next to him. Dr. Bombay conjured a chair for himself, and began to give his diagnosis.

"First off Harry, I dare say that it has been longer than just this summer that you have had an eating problem. Deny it if you want, but the facts will prevail. You are undersized for your age due to long-term undernourishment. There's not much we can do for that now, you're almost fully grown. But we do need to get you eating healthy again. I'm putting you on a new eating schedule – six small meals instead of three large ones - for the next few weeks, until you put on a bit of weight. And drink plenty of liquids, water and juice especially. I personally recommend orange juice, tastes better than pumpkin juice, and it's a nicer shade of orange, too. Got all that?"

Harry nodded. "Yes. I've actually been eating a bit better the last two days."

"Good. Girls don't like boys that are all skin and bone. Now, I noticed your eyesight has changed. When was your prescription last updated?"

Harry thought a moment. "I don't really remember. I guess when I was 11. I remember that after Hagrid's visit, they took me because they were afraid the fre .., er, people might ask about it."

"Well, before you leave today, I'll get your lenses updated for you and resize the frames. Now, about that strange scar on your hand. If you are right-handed, how exactly did you manage to get the phrase 'I must not tell lies' carved into that hand?"

Harry flinched, and tried to hide his right hand. Albus reached for the hand, and held it between his own. "It was a cursed quill, Bernard. I will be dealing with the perpetrator, have no doubt about that."

Bombay seemed satisfied. "Well, as long as you are aware of the circumstances, Albus. I'm afraid the scar is too old for me to do much about, but it is rather thin, and should at least fade over time. Everything else looks healthy enough. Now Albus, why don't you see my nurse for the details of Harry's new diet. We'll just be a moment," he added, patting Harry on the leg.

Albus gave Harry's hand a final pat, and left the room. Harry shifted uncomfortably on the bed, wondering what the Doctor had missed in his earlier examination.

Soon enough, he found out. "Harry, you're almost sixteen. So tell me, do you ever slick your willy?"

Harry glanced at the Doctor, a look of confusion on his face. He wasn't asking what Harry thought, was he? "I'm sorry?"

"What, isn't that what you kids call it these days? How about wax your wand? Pet your snake? Master your domain? Do I need to show you what I mean?"

"NO! I got it. I don't see how that is relevant, er, Doctor." Harry was a very interesting shade of red by this point.

"My boy, masturbation is a perfectly natural action. Why, even at my age I still take the time to enjoy it on occasion. At your age, I would say that 4 to 7 times a week is normal. But as you get older, you must slow it down, no pun intended. Over indulgence can lead to low sperm counts. Trust me, the last thing you want as a young adult is to have to go to an apothecary for an Elixir of Semen-inis. Do you think you can be trusted to slow down on your own, or should I prescribe a de-sensitizing salve?"

Harry did not like the sound of that, and it showed in his hasty answer. "No, I'm good, thanks. Is that all then?"

"You seem reluctant to discuss this. Is it because you have trouble ejaculating? Do you experience, what is the term, wetty teddies, on a regular basis?"

"Do I what?" Harry couldn't believe the bizarre turn this exam had taken. He was sure his face was a permanent red.

"What I am asking is if you ever wake up to discover that you have ejaculated during the night. At your age, this should be happening. If it isn't, it could be an indication of a medical condition. We would need to do a more in-depth exam."

Harry was quick to answer, "No, I mean yes, I have them so no, there's nothing wrong." '_No way is he examining anything down there' "_And you aren't getting a sample, so you can just vanish that cup right now." Harry had started to panic when he had seen the Doctor conjure another specimen cup.

"Very well. Don't come crying to me in another 70 or 80 years when you suddenly develop erectile dysfunction. Do I dare mention safe sex?" Harry gave a quick shake of his head. "Fine, take all my fun away. At least take this pamphlet that should answer any basic questions you have. Alright then, leave your glasses with me to be updated, and you can join Albus in the waiting room." Dr. Bombay took Harry's glasses, and held the door open for him. For his part, Harry practically ran back to Albus.

In the waiting room, he sat down next to Albus to wait for his glasses. "Professor, please, never bring me here again." Albus looked at Harry's still-red face, then glanced down at the pamphlet in his hand. "Ah, The Joy of Conjugal Relations. I remember getting that when I was attending Hogwarts. My friends and I thought it greatly outdated then. I think I have an Old English dictionary at the cottage if you have trouble with any of the words." As much as he tried, Albus couldn't keep the twinkle out of his eyes as he spoke. "At least he has saved me the embarrassment of that discussion. I must remember to thank him. Perhaps I should have that 'EKG' after all."

"This isn't funny, Sir. If it's just the same to you, I would like to pretend the last 15 minutes never happened."

Albus chuckled. "Very well. We shall so pretend. But before the pretending commences, I must add that I am available if you do have any questions. And I believe I may have a book that you will find a bit more helpful than that pamphlet. Now then, I see the nurse has your glasses. Why don't we retrieve them and take our leave?"

After having a quick lunch, Albus took Harry shopping for new clothes and other necessary items. At one of the muggle stores, Harry stopped to look at the watches.

"Harry, there is a wizard's general store on the edge of town. Why don't we get you a nice watch there? They have models that can act as Portkeys and some that buzz whenever you pass into an area protected from Apparition. I think we could even find you one like mine."

"No thank you sir. I just want one that will tell time. This one will do.", he said as he held up a plain black watch. "It says its waterproof, and the face glows in the dark."

Albus asked, "We could find you one that will yell at you if you are going to be late?"

Harry shrugged. "Wouldn't that get annoying? It's a watch. All it needs to do is show me the time."

Albus tried again. "But that is so plain. Don't you at least want this nice one with the picture of a rat on it?"

"That's not a rat. That's Mickey Mouse, and it's for little kids. I just want this plain watch." And so, in addition to several outfits, and some new boxers (because he liked a little wiggle room as much as the next guy), they bought one very cheap, very muggle watch.

They did stop at the wizard's general store, aptly called 'Wizard's General Store'. Harry picked out a couple robes in muted colors for casual wear, and a new dress robe. Albus had tried to get him to purchase the pale blue ones with what looked like dancing bears around the hem, but Harry wanted elegant. He finally chose a robe in steel grey in a traditional cut, since he figured that wouldn't clash with whatever Ginny, er, his future girlfriend might wear.

In the back of the store, Harry spotted a magical trunk, with five compartments, the last the size of a large closet. Albus noticed Harry looking at the trunk. "Would you like to get a new trunk, Harry?"

"What, you mean this thing? And have to worry that some nut job is going to lock me inside it and Polyjuice me? I don't think so. Besides, I can leave some of my stuff at the cottage, can't I? That way my trunk won't be quite so full."

"I am honored that you want to leave your things at my, I mean our, home. Of course you are welcome to do so. That is what families do. In fact, I planned on discussing the possibility of you continuing to live with me even after your 17th birthday. In the magical world, children often remain with their families until marriage, and many times even after."

Harry was stunned. "Wow. I, well, I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything right now, Harry," Albus replied. "It has been less than a week. Let us see how the rest of this summer goes before we make such plans." Looking at the things in their basket, he added, "I think we are done here, so let us pay for our items. Was there anything else you wanted purchase today?"

"I'd like to stop at a pet shop. I thought Hedwig might like some variety, and wanted to see what a muggle shop might have."

They entered the muggle pet store and went to the bird section. Harry picked out some organic bird seed and a new water bottle. Before he went to the register, he decided to wander around the store. Near the back, Harry found the reptiles. One in particular tank, a small ball python was lounging on a rock, staring at the customers. Harry was walking past when he heard a hissing laugh. He looked back at the snake. =What's so funny?=

=You people are. Looking at me like I'm so scary. See that woman over there? She won't come anywhere near my tank. She thinks I'm pretending to be harmless while I wait for the right time to strike.=

That sounded silly to Harry. =Surely you can't be serious? Everyone knows pythons aren't poisonous.=

=I am serious, and don't call me Shirley. I happen to be male. I heard her tell that man with her that she was on to me.=

=Well, I'm sure she only meant …=, but Harry couldn't finish because he was interrupted.

"Harry, as interesting as I am sure that conversation is, you would do well to remember that we are in the presence of Muggles. Perhaps this is not the best time for such a discussion?"

"Oh, right Sir." Harry quickly glanced around. =Sorry, I've got to go.=

=I understand. Come see me again some time. I enjoyed our conversation.=

Harry turned back to see Albus smiling at him. "I don't believe I have ever heard you speak parseltongue before. As you know I can speak many languages, but that is one that will forever escape me. I would think snakes would have a fascinating view of our world. I must admit I am envious of that particular talent of yours."

Albus and Harry made their way to the register and checked out. Their last stop was for ice cream before heading home. As they eat their treats, Harry worked up the nerve to ask a question that had been on his mind all day. "Sir, can I ask you something? It's rather personal."

"Of course, Harry. We are trying to act as a family, and family members are, after all, allowed to ask each other anything."

Harry got right to the point. "Are you sick, Sir?"

The question caught Albus by surprise. "I assure you I am in perfect health. But why do you ask?"

Harry fiddled with his ice cream as he explained. "Well, in muggle fantasy stories, the young hero is often mentored by the wise, old man who dies before the hero can complete his task."

"Are you calling me a muggle fantasy cliché?"

Harry had the grace to turn red as he answered. "No, Sir. Not cliché. But you're not exactly young anymore. I mean, you kind of fit the mold – old, I mean old_er_, wise, and powerful. And you are my mentor. I just wanted to make sure that you hadn't decided to take me in and teach me now because you know that your time is short and it's now or never. And Dr. Bombay sort of hinted that you won't let him examine you, which made me wonder if you thought he might find something."

Albus knew he had to answer carefully. "Harry, believe me when I say that I am as healthy as one can be at my age. Now, I cannot guarantee that I will not be killed in this war. Like you, I have the metaphorical target on my back. I am also not a homicidal maniac, and so I have not attempted to attain immortality. But I can assure you that I plan to still be the Headmaster of Hogwarts when your children attend. That way I can tell them of all the times you were sent to my office during your educational career."

Harry couldn't help but laugh. "You wouldn't. Those stories might give them ideas." It did, in fact, give him an idea. "But maybe I should have you pass my father's cloak on to the next generation of Potter's for their first Christmas at Hogwarts. That can be your tradition."

"Somehow, I doubt the professors would approve of such a tradition. But perhaps what they don't know, eh Harry?" Albus winked as he said this last bit, and Harry laughed.

"Right you are, Sir. By the way, how much do I owe you for today? I suppose I can give you my Gringotts key, and you can just reimburse yourself whenever you get the chance." Harry thought for a moment. "You know, I don't really know how much I have left. I haven't seen my vault since before third year. For all I know, I'm going broke."

Albus put a reassuring hand on Harry's arm. "First, you do not owe me for anything today. As your guardian, it is my responsibility to provide for you. Second, it is also my pleasure to provide for you. I am happy to see you enjoying yourself today. Third, you will be able to get into your vault yourself when you join the Weasley's for school shopping later this summer. And finally, I do not think you have to worry about your vault balance anytime soon. Your parents were quite well off – enough so that your father worked because he wanted to, not because he had to. Add to that your rather substantial inheritance from Sirius, and I dare say that young Mister Malfoy can no longer consider you beneath him, monetarily speaking. In fact, the opposite may be true."

"Oh." Harry was stunned. "Well, I didn't realize. I mean, I never really thought about it. I just knew there was a lot of gold; I never counted it or anything." Thinking over what he had just said, Harry added, "That sounds horrible, doesn't it? That I've never even asked about the balance. Does that mean that I take my money for granted? Am I a rich snob?"

His guardian shook his head. "Of course not. I think you are just a boy who grew up with next to nothing, who cannot admit to himself that he his now rich, and so he doesn't dwell on it. Now, are you finished with your ice cream? We really should be going."

Harry dropped his spoon into the melted treat, and stood up. "I'm ready anytime you are. Oh, don't forget your change. You know what they say, 'a penny saved is a penny earned.' "

"Ah yes, one of those wise muggle sayings. Thank you for the advice." Albus also stood to leave. "After you."

When Harry went to bed that night, he found a new book on his nightstand: Kirk's Reference Guide. Picking up what he assumed was an educational work Harry noticed a note with the book. _"I found this much more helpful. Use it well, but not too well."_ Thumbing through the book, Harry's jaw nearly hit the floor. It was a book about sex, and the note was right, it was going to be much more helpful than that pamphlet Dr. Bombay had given him. There were even fold out diagrams. Harry decided this was one educational book he would definitely read cover to cover.

** end chapter **

**Notes:** Did you count the clichés? 1- Harry goes on shopping spree, 2- gets a new watch, 3- magical trunk makes an appearance, 4- new glasses/hadn't gotten them in a long time, 5- boxers or briefs mystery solved, 6- obligatory discussion with a snake in pet shop, 7- Harry's size due to malnutrition growing up (although I think that one has merit from clues in the books), 8- Harry gets 'the talk', and 9- Harry's _very_ rich.

From the doctor's visit: Semen-inis is latin for seed, you can work it out from there. I made up the 'medical facts' the Doctor was dishing out, as I had no interest in looking up that particular topic, so don't bother correcting me, or getting your hopes up.

According to an interview by Jo, Dumbledore can understand, but not speak parseltongue. Kirk's Reference Guide is in honor of Captain James T. Kirk, who always seemed to land the hot chicks, and he surely knew enough to write such a book.


	11. Houseguests

The legalities: I don't own any of the characters from the original Harry Potter works, which pretty much leaves me with Dr. Tony. I guess I won't be making any money off this after all. Bummer.

.

.

**11. Houseguests**

The next week brought Harry's second therapy session. Harry talked a bit more about his life with the Dursley's, how he was adjusting to living with Albus, and for some reason, how Quidditch compared to muggle ice hockey. They also explored what Dr. Tony (as he preferred to be called) termed Harry's 'root cause' – that he was feeling overwhelmed by negative and depressing thoughts. Harry had never really wanted to hurt himself, he just didn't know how to cope with these dark emotions. But together, they would find a healthy way to move Harry past those thoughts. The Doctor gave Harry homework of a sort; to bring a list of fifteen things he could do when he starts feeling overwhelmed to their next session.

The day after his session was Harry's sixteenth birthday. Oddly enough, there had been no gifts at midnight, even though he had stayed awake for his usual celebration. But when he came down in the morning, he found a surprise waiting, courtesy of Albus and Dobby. There was cake and ice cream for breakfast, which was then followed by gifts. Albus gave him a new quill made from the tail feather of a certain phoenix. He explained to Harry that a writing quill made from a phoenix feather could last a lifetime, as it was nearly impossible to break (fire being its only weakness). It was a rare and valuable gift, and Harry appreciated not only the gift, but the significance behind it, that Albus felt he was worthy of such a gift.

Dobby's gift would be helpful when school restarted. He had drawn Harry a map of the Middle Tower, complete with 2 secret passageways and a hidden room at the top of the tower. Albus smiled warmly as Dobby explained that after Harry's 'secret room' was discovered last year, he had made it his job to find Harry a new one. When Harry left the table, he went to his room to stow the drawing with the Marauder's Map. He had been right, it was definitely time for an update!

Waiting in his room for him were owls bearing gifts. Tossing some treats on his desk, he removed the letters and packages and then settled on his bed to open them. Along with the usual chocolate frogs, books, and stationary, he had found his very own Extendable Ear, courtesy of the twins. Ginny had sent him a black T-shirt which read "no, that's not a wand in my pocket", suggesting that perhaps he had best not wear it around her mother. Everyone's letters where full of updates on their summers, and pleas for him to find out when they could all get together. Ron and Ginny also spent time complaining about Bill's fiancé, who was staying with them. One bright spot was Ginny's comment that _'I've written Dean that I won't be writing him, if that made any sense. It must have, he sent back a note saying OK with him. Should I be relieved or offended by that?'_

Harry quickly wrote out thank-you notes, with promises to see them all at Diagon Alley some time in August. After Hedwig and the other owls left, Harry headed outside for a day of flying and exploring. He wanted to give that secret passage into the chapel another try, just to make sure it wasn't a one-time thing. With Albus' permission, (and promises to actually eat them) he even took a sandwich and an apple, so he didn't have to return for lunch.

The day was rounded out with 'traditional breakfast food' served as dinner because, as his guardian explained, they were eating in reverse order to mark the special day. Nothing earth-shattering had happened, but to Harry it was one of his best birthday's to date, right behind his first (which he didn't remember, but he knew had been special), and of course his eleventh, which was special because that's when he found out he was a wizard.

It was a few days later that Albus informed Harry that they would be having a guest, who would be staying with them until it was time to return to Hogwarts. Harry started to worry when Albus wouldn't tell him who the guest was, only saying "you will know soon enough, now off you go." Deciding it did him no good to worry, Harry spent that morning flying with Hedwig and practicing the Wronski Feint in the meadow. It was a good thing no one but Hedwig was watching, because he crashed twice before he got it down. Luckily, he had been going rather slow, at least by Firebolt standards, so he didn't get seriously injured, but he did have a few cuts and bruises, a sore wrist, and was covered in mud. He snuck up to his room for a quick shower, and easily convinced Dobby to help with some minor healing. As he entered the dining room for lunch, he stopped dead in his tracks at the sight that greeted him.

Seeing his reaction, Albus chuckled. "I trust you recognize our guest, Harry. Why don't you have a seat so lunch can be served?"

Harry moved to take his seat. "Of course, Sir. Good afternoon Professor. You, er, look different with your hair down. It's nice, though," he quickly added.

"Why thank you Mister Potter," responded Minerva McGonagall, "or should I say Harry? I'm not your professor right now; I suppose you could call me a friend of the family. And I often wear my hair down when I am not working."

"It helps to remind her that she is supposed to be relaxing," added Albus. "So Minerva, how is that sister of yours?"

Harry spent the rest of the meal hearing about his Head's extended family. He, like most students, knew next to nothing of their professors' personal lives, so he found himself rather fascinated. He was told that Helena, Minerva's sister, was a few years older than Minerva, and looked much like her, but was quite the free spirit. Harry spent a few minutes trying to picture his strict Professor acting like Luna Lovegood, but he just couldn't see it. Helena sounded like someone he would enjoy meeting, and he said as much.

"Perhaps when you are older, and a bit less impressionable" was her brisk reply.

As another Tuesday rolled around, Albus explained to Minerva that he and Harry had a standing appointment, and they would be leaving after dinner. Thankfully, she never questioned the nature of the appointment, at least not that Harry heard.

As the week had progressed, Harry had come to realize that the addition of his other Professor didn't change the routine he and Albus had set. He also realized why Albus had two desks in his study area. He was slowing getting comfortable being around her in this informal setting. Well, as comfortable as one can be living in close quarters with the school's strictest professor. It helped, he reasoned, that she left most days shortly after lunch, often returning just in time for dinner or even later, allowing he and Albus to have their time together.

Harry was brought from his musings by Albus telling him it was time to leave. Once at his appointment, the hour seemed to go quickly. He and Dr. Tony had their usual update about how he was coping with his negative thoughts ('they aren't constant anymore, but they are still there') and his improving eating habits, before covering the deeper topics. The doctor helped Harry realize that his life had not suddenly spun out of control. It had 'unraveled' slowly, starting more than a year ago with what Harry called 'that stupid tournament'. Getting it back under control would take time, but he had taken an important first step in deciding to place himself in his Professor's care. _'Uncle Albus? No. Al, maybe? What do I call him?'_ This whole family thing was pretty easy, although admittedly it hadn't been put to any tests, so to speak.

After a quick stop for ice cream, they headed home to spend a relaxing night introducing Minerva to a new game Albus had found – Candyland.

A few days later there was a new excitement; an owl arrived during breakfast with a letter for Harry – a very official looking letter. O.W.L. results. Harry took the letter from the owl with trepidation, looking at his professors as he did so. They were both watching him, slight smiles on their faces. "I suppose you already know what this says, Professor?" Harry asked the question while looking at Minerva, but it was Albus who answered.

"Indeed we do, Harry. But we wouldn't want to spoil your fun. Why don't we retreat to the sitting room so you can open your very important letter, and we can discuss your scores and options?" It may have sounded like a question, but Harry knew it really wasn't. He quickly finished his orange juice, and then followed Minerva to the sitting room.

Harry took his usual seat on the couch, Albus his recliner (foot rest up so you could see the ears of his bunny slippers), and Minerva a rocking chair. Harry felt a strange rush of something – he couldn't quite place what – as he looked at the two. They were sitting comfortably in their seats, a far cry from the strict image they normally projected, sitting upright behind their desks at school. '_But we're not at school, we're home.'_

Harry was reminded of his purpose when Albus cleared his throat. He tore open the envelope, and skipped straight to his results:

Astronomy …. A  
Care of Magical Creatures …. E  
Charms …. E  
Defense Against the Dark Arts …. O  
Divination …. P  
Herbology …. E  
History of Magic …. D  
Potions …. E  
Transfiguration …. E

He wasn't sure how he felt about his scores. On one hand, he hadn't gotten an 'O' in Potions (which he knew was a long shot). He had, however, gotten the 'O' in Defense that, he would now admit aloud, he had been expecting. He looked at his guardian, and was confused by the look on Albus' face. He was tempted to think it was pride, for it was very similar to the looks he got from Professor Lupin during their Patronus lessons.

Yes, Albus was definitely smiling as he spoke, "Very well done, Harry. You were the only student in your class to achieve an 'O' in Defense this year, although several only narrowly missed. One does wonder how high the others' scores would have been if you had been able to continue your tutoring sessions." Harry thought that was a nice way to refer to his illegal study group.

"Yes, Harry, I agree your scores are quite acceptable," said Minerva. "You scored a very high 'E' in Transfiguration, and I believe you only missed the 'O' in Charms by 3 points. I always knew you were capable."

Harry was slightly embarrassed by the praise, especially considering he had two failing grades. "Thank you Professors, but I think you are overlooking a few grades. I didn't do so well in Divination. I may not have 'the sight', but even I saw that one coming." Harry was certain he heard Minerva snort. "And History, well, that was sure to be bad, considering what happened."

Albus looked at Harry and spoke. "Indeed, a most unfortunate occurrence. Believe me when I say that overall, you performed admirably, considering your rather troubled year. Consider this: for months, you were being tormented by dreams from Voldemort – we always use the name here, Minerva," Albus said as his eyes shifted to her briefly, "and you were being persecuted by one of your teachers. A teacher who did all _but_ teach, I might add. People around you treated you horribly, and you felt abandoned. Correction, you were abandoned. And yet, you managed to earn 7 O.W.L.s. Can you imagine how well you would have done if you had had a nice, quiet year like your classmates?"

Harry looked between his two professors, and saw that they were both smiling at him.

Minerva spoke again. "Albus is right. You can be proud of your scores. You are a gifted wizard, full of potential. You know my feelings on both Divination in general, and Sybil Trelawney in particular." Minerva stopped for a moment to see if Albus was going to say anything. When he didn't comment, she continued, "I'll let you in on a little secret. Very few of her students have ever scored higher than an Acceptable, and many have earned P's or lower."

She waited a moment for her words to sink in, and then continued. "Perhaps now is a good time to discuss your classes for next year. I hope I am not presuming too much in offering my advice?"

"Of course not." answered Harry. "I'd welcome any good advice. In second year I didn't have any. I don't think just picking the same classes as Ron was the best strategy, but I was twelve and wasn't exactly thinking of my future career. Actually, I think Hermione was probably the only student in our class, or at least in Gryffindor, that was already thinking that far ahead."

Minerva seemed to agree. "It does seem odd to have students make such important choices at such a young age, wouldn't you agree Albus?" As Albus nodded his agreement, she continued, "That's why Hogwarts offers Abridged O.W.L.s to 6th and 7th Years. These are only offered for the elective classes, such as Ancient Runes, as those teachers have the time in their schedules. Basically, you condense 3 years' worth of lessons into a 2-year period, so you have to be serious about your studies. Many students pick up an extra O.W.L. or two in this manner. Others use these lessons to retake an O.W.L. they didn't pass the first time. Is there a specific class you wish you had taken?"

"Well, Hermione is always going on about how Arithmancy is her favorite subject. And I've looked through her Ancient Runes books, and it looks interesting. If I had taken one of those, I would have given myself more career choices."

"I thought you wanted to be an Auror?" Minerva asked, remembering her most interesting career counseling to date.

"Well, I do, in a way. It seems like I'm destined to fight evil wizards." Harry gave Albus a quick glance before looking back to Minerva. "But what if Umbridge is right and they won't accept me? And even if they do, I don't know that I really want to spend my whole life doing it. I think that once Voldemort is gone, I might like to do something a bit less, er, exciting."

"And did you have something in mind?" Albus wanted to know.

"Well, I think something like what Bill Weasley does sounds fun."

"Oh yes, curse breaking would be much less _exciting_," replied Minerva, rolling her eyes.

Albus intervened, "Now Minerva, Harry has a point. One look at Alastor tells us that dark wizard hunting is not a life-long career. It is wise of you to be thinking ahead, and taking an extra O.W.L. or two will certainly open more options to you. And there is still the matter of Potions. Even if you are considering other careers, it is a valuable class."

"But I didn't get an 'O'. Snape …" Harry saw Albus opening his mouth, and quickly corrected himself. "I mean Professor Snape will not let me in the class. I guess it's a good thing I'm considering other things, isn't it?"

Albus and Minerva shared a look, and then she explained. "Harry, Professor Snape does have the authority to reject _students_ who do not achieve an 'O' on their O.W.L. He cannot, however, keep out a Head's Candidate. I believe I told you that I would see you become an Auror, and that includes taking Potions. Even if that is no longer your goal, I will see you enrolled in every class you want. Lord knows I've had to accept his Slytherins enough times."

"I'm sorry, but what's a Head's Candidate? I think I read something about it in _Hogwarts: A History_, but I don't remember what it was."

Minerva actually laughed at that. "Does Miss Granger know you have been reading her favorite book?" Seeing him shake his head, she continued. "Ah, going to surprise her, are you? Well, a Head's Candidate is someone who wants to continue a subject, but cannot be officially enrolled due to missing the required mark, in this case an 'O'. The only rules are that you must have passed the O.W.L., which you have, and you must be approved by your Head of House, which I dare say you are. You are allowed to attend the classes and complete all class work, and your work is corrected, but you do not get an official grade. Since there is no grade, homework is optional, although it is strongly suggested that you do it so as to be prepared. Your true goal, after all, is to learn." She gave Harry one of her sternest looks until he nodded his head in agreement. "At the end of your 7th Year, you sit the N.E.W.T. exam with the rest of your classmates. And dare I add the best part? As you are not a student, per se, you cannot be called upon during classroom discussions. That privilege is reserved for those who are earning an actual grade." Harry started to smile at this last comment. "If you are agreeable, I will inform Professor Snape of your placement."

Harry could hardly believe what he had heard. "No more losing points for not answering impossible questions? And he won't be hovering over my cauldron any longer? Professor, that's genius. I couldn't believe how easy my exam was without _someone_ constantly belittling me. I accept. Thank you."

"You are quite welcome. I believe it's the least I can do. After all, Albus is not the only one who failed you in the past."

Before Harry could respond to this, Albus suggested they discuss Harry's other class options. It was eventually decided that Harry would take the Abridged O.W.L. classes for Arithmancy. He would also take N.E.W.T. level Charms, Defense, and Transfiguration. Along with Potions, that would give him 4 N.E.W.T.s (presuming he passed the exams), leaving him one short if he still wanted to be an Auror. His two professors had then told him, in strictest confidence of course, that he could sit the Care of Magical Creatures N.E.W.T. at the end of 6th Year with only a little studying. It was a well kept secret that Care of Magical Creatures was considered an easy N.E.W.T. by the professors because the exam was written entirely by Newt Scamander. All one had to do to pass was study _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_, which Harry already owned.

Harry knew he was going to be in for a busy year, but was actually looking forward to the challenge. It was only when McGonagall mentioned Quidditch that Harry became anxious. She happily informed Harry that he was back on the team, as the Ministry had indeed rescinded all of Umbridge's decrees. Katie Bell had hesitantly accepted the Captain's position on the condition that Harry be willing to help, as it was her N.E.W.T. year. Minerva was surprised when Harry wasn't immediately excited, but Albus understood. He explained to Harry the importance of remembering to enjoy life, and hinted that Harry had the potential to 'view the World Cup from an entirely different angle'. By the end of the conversation, a now-excited Harry was describing his near-perfect Wronski Feint to his professors, oblivious to their concerned looks.

Eventually, Harry excused himself to write to Ginny about being back on the team. As he rose from his couch, Albus casually reminded him that perhaps he should write his other friends about his O.W.L. results and new class schedule (minus Potions, as he technically shouldn't know he was accepted yet). Harry blushed as he left the room; his professors sharing a laugh and a knowing look.

In his room, Harry debated sharing a growing suspicion with Ginny in his letter. In the few days McGonagall had been with them, Harry had already discovered that his professors often talked well into the night. And once, very early in the morning, he had thought he had seen her come out of the Headmaster's bedroom. But given that their bedrooms were next to each other, both at the far end of the hall, it was hard to be certain. Now, being almost sixteen, he wasn't exactly naïve, but he refused to consider what they might have been doing, if she was in fact leaving his bedroom at 6:00 AM, _which she most definitely wasn't_. Rumors of a 'relationship' between Dumbledore and McGonagall had reached his ears his second day at Hogwarts, but he had always assumed them to be tall tales. Now he wasn't so sure. _'there are just some mysteries I don't want to solve. Wouldn't Snape be surprised to hear that.'_ Harry ultimately decided to respect their personal lives, and not tell anyone his new suspicions (at least, not without more evidence).

-000-

'_Another day and another surprise,'_ Harry thought to himself. He had been coming back in from his morning flight when he heard voices in the sitting area. They were muffled (he was hearing them through the kitchen door, after all), but he was sure he heard someone say 'here, kitty-kitty'. He entered the room to see McGonagall (or Minerva, as Albus would say) standing with not one, but two, men with long white beards. One obviously was his guardian, but the other looked like _'the bartender from the Hogs Head?'_

Albus was the first to notice the boy. "Oh, Harry. I thought you were still out flying. Allow me to introduce you to my brother, Aberforth Dumbledore. Aberforth, this is Harry Potter, of course. I believe you have already met," Albus added with a meaningful look at Harry.

Aberforth gave Harry a glance, and turned back to his brother. "And why, exactly, is the Chosen One hiding in your cottage? Daily Prophet says he lives with Muggles."

"Well, I did," Harry replied before Albus had the chance. "But now I live here. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mister Dumbledore."

Aberforth gave his brother a calculated look, and then said to Harry, "I ain't 'Dumbledore'. That's my brother. Most people call me Aberforth, but you will call me Uncle Abe."

Albus glared at the other man. "Now Aberforth, you don't have to antagonize the boy."

"You just hush, Skipper," said Abe. "If you can play family, so can I. I've always wanted to be an uncle, but you never cooperated. At least not that I could prove," he said, winking to Harry. "Now we can both have what we wanted. You get a son to raise and teach, and I get a nephew to conspire with and corrupt. Free drinks at the Hog's Head for life, Harry. And not that sissy butterbeer, mind you, but the good stuff. You just come see ole' Uncle Abe and he'll fix you right up."

Albus and Minerva both seemed ready to interject, and Harry strongly suspected it wouldn't be to congratulate him on the generous gift, so he decided it would be prudent to change the subject. "Excuse me, er, Uncle Abe, but did you just call the Professor Skipper?"

"Sure did. That's what he thinks he is, a skipper. Always leading the troops, he is. Why, when we were young, he used to organize seaside tours for us and the goats. Never even let the fact that we didn't live near water stop him. He would borrow Mother's wand and turn the garden bench into a giant birdbath."

Albus didn't like where this was headed, so he tried to stop it. "Yes, Aberforth, I'm sure that everyone would love to listen to more of your stories, but I think Dobby most likely has lunch ready. You are of course invited to stay."

"Oh Albus, let the man tell his story," Minerva said with a huge smile on her face. "Personally, I would love to hear more about this birdbath. Tell me Aberforth, what did he use for water?"

But Albus tried again. "I really think lunch is about ready. Dobby was making his fresh tuna sandwiches with garlic chips, and you know that the chips get soggy if they sit too long." Unfortunately for him, Harry and Minerva were paying more attention to Abe's story than to him. He glanced toward the kitchen, only to find that Dobby had stopped serving lunch and was also listening to Abe.

Abe continued, "He was good at the transfiguration, but his conjuring left much to be desired, so he would fill the birdbath by funneling water from the upstairs bathtub, right out the window."

Albus countered, "In my defense, I was only ten at the time. And as I recall, you were the one that wanted to do something, what did you call it, oh yes, fun for the goats."

Harry interrupted, "You were doing that kind of transfiguration at ten? That's amazing. I'm not even sure I could do that now."

"Of course you could, Harry," replied Minerva. "You can do anything, you just have to work on your discipline. If you like, I can teach you a few 'tricks of the trade' that might help you in your studies."

Abe sighed loudly. "Yes, yes, let's ruin a perfectly good conversation by making it educational. Fine Skipper, let's go have your lunch. Lead on, oh mighty Skipper."

As the group moved to the patio for a lunch in the sun, Abe continued quietly to Harry. "He would take us for a walk around his birdbath, pointing out all the interesting sights, like the neighbor's cabbage patch and where we buried the dead canary."

"But that's not the reason you call him Skipper, is it?"

Abe gave Harry an appraising look. "You've figured me out. I do it to keep him grounded. Too many people treat him like he's infallible, above everyone else. He might be intelligent, but he's still human."

"So I've noticed," Harry mumbled, thinking back to the past year.

Abe wisely ignored the comment. "You know, you can call him Skipper, too. Like a code name, when you are talking with your friends. I assume no one knows of this living arrangement?" He saw Harry shake his head. "Much better than calling him 'my guardian' or 'the-other-you-know-who', although that one has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"That's brilliant," Harry responded, laughing. "The Skipper one, I mean. They would never figure out who the Skipper is, because no one in there right mind would refer to the great Albus Dumbledore that way."

"Exactly. But what does that say about us, eh? I know, when you refer to him as Skipper, he can call you his little buddy."

Harry grimaced. "Er, I don't think so. That's just wrong in ways I don't even want to think about."

Abe and Harry finally sat down and joined the others for lunch, and Harry spent a delightful afternoon talking with the adults, and especially listening to his newly appointed Uncle Abe tell stories about a young Skipper. Before he knew it, supper was long over, as it was past 11:00. He said his goodnights, and headed to bed. Hoping his good mood would carry him to sleep easily, he fluffed his pillow and settled down to sleep.

A few hours later, Harry woke up suddenly, feeling the room spinning around him. He barely managed to keep himself from being sick all over his bed, hitting the floor instead. Once again, he had been having a perfectly normal dream, about Dobby making tiny socks for Hedwig of all things, when it had changed. Voldemort was sitting on his throne, and there were three young men kneeling in front of him. Harry thought he recognized one of them as a student three or four years ahead of him at Hogwarts, but he wasn't sure. Voldemort was ranting about the werewolves. It wasn't clear what these men were supposed to do, but they had definitely failed in a spectacular fashion. Voldemort casually stood, and disarmed and immobilized two of the men. He then forced 'Mr. Hogwarts' to watch as he slowly dismembered the frozen men. Their deaths were neither quick nor painless. Mr. Hogwarts was then put under crucio before being ordered to "take out this trash, and you had best not disappoint again."

Harry was shaking, and he could feel phantom pains in his arms and legs, just about where those unlucky Death Eaters had had theirs detached. His fingers were tingling, and he felt feverish. He needed to do something to get that image out of his head _now_! He climbed from his bed, and started to pace, eyeing his door every so often. At one point he looked down at the scar on his hand, but this time, it only reminded him of how alone he had felt last year. Only, he wasn't supposed to be alone anymore, he had someone he could count on now. But only if he was willing to go to him. He took a few more steps, then stopped himself, and looked at his owl. She moved from her perch to sit on top of a bedpost, and stared him in the eye. He reached out to stroke her feathers, more for his comfort than hers. He sighed and said "I know this is stupid girl, I'm almost an adult for heaven's sake, but I don't want to deal with this by myself. What do you think, should I go see Dumbledore?"

If she could, Hedwig would have shouted "halleluiah". As it was, she simply nodded her head. Harry looked at the clock. It was past 1:00 in the morning, but he knew the professor wouldn't mind. Harry gathered his nerve, left his room, and made his way down the hallway. He knocked on Albus' door, a little louder than normal so as to wake the man, and waited. When Albus answered, he took one look at Harry – pale, feverish, and still shaking – and motioned him into his room. He guided Harry to sit on the edge of his bed, and called for Dobby to bring a dreamless sleep potion and a glass of water. Putting his arm around Harry, he slowly coaxed the dream out of him. By the time Harry was finished with his tale, including how he'd felt when he woke up, he was leaning into Albus. Albus handed him the potion, and supported him until he was asleep. He then gently laid Harry in his bed, and tucked him in.

Looking across the room, he said, "I must apologize, but it appears that something a bit more important has arisen. I am sure you understand."

Albus waited as the tabby cat nodded her head, then jumped off of a chair and left the room. He gently closed the door, and split his large bed into two smaller ones. Settling on the one closest to the door, he cast a charm to wake him before Harry's potion wore off. Just hearing that dream, which he had no doubt had really happened, had left him unsettled. That Harry had come to him was encouraging, but he knew the teenager would probably be embarrassed come morning for giving in to the 'childish' need for comfort. He clearly remembered Minerva's description of Harry after last year's snake-vision. Seeing the boy now gave him a much greater understanding of what Harry was going through, and he didn't like it one bit. He vowed to himself that he would not fail; he would help that child to not just survive, but to thrive. He dimmed the lights, and settled down for a much needed rest.

**** end chapter ****

**Notes:** O.W.L. results copied from HP Lexicon, who I'm sure took directly from the book. I hope you liked my way of getting Harry into Potions class; without Slughorn there, Jo's way wouldn't work anymore.


	12. The lion, the witch, and the wardrobe

Legal Notice: If you recognize it, I don't own it. I just borrow it.

.

.

**12. The lion, the witch, and the wardrobe**

As Harry slowly gave in to his wakefulness, and cracked open his eyes, he noticed two things. First, the sunlight was coming in the wrong window. And second, he could hear another person moving in the room. Memories from last night suddenly flooded his mind, and he solved the mystery in a flash. _'This isn't my room, it's Dumbledore's. I feel asleep on my Headmaster. Well, isn't this embarrassing.' _He fully opened his eyes to see his guardian setting his clean clothes on a chair.

Noticing Harry was awake, he wished him a good morning, adding "Feel free to take a shower in my bathroom this morning. I have informed Minerva that Dobby will be serving a late breakfast. That will give us plenty of time to discuss your most disturbing vision."

"So it was real, then?" Harry asked. He had hoped it was just a nightmare, even though he knew there was little chance of that.

"I am afraid that the remains of two individuals were found outside the door of a wizard's pub in Aberdeen, rather near to the home of a prominent Wizengamot member. But enough morbid talk, you need to get yourself cleaned up. A hot, relaxing shower can do one's mind a world of good. Feel free to give my Erumpent's Milk lotion a try, it does wonders for the skin."

After the shower and lotion, which _did_ do wonders for his skin, Harry returned to the bedroom. Albus was sitting on one of his chairs, and Harry walked to the other. He kept his eyes downcast as he approached the chair. _'are those cat hairs?'_ Harry closed his eyes as he sat down, then took a deep breath and looked at Albus, letting him know he was ready to talk.

And talk they did, for nearly an hour. In the light of day, Harry had been mortified by the way he had needed to be comforted by Albus (him being 16 and all), yet he acknowledged that he had always craved such comfort. More importantly, he hadn't allowed himself to dwell on the horrid images, which could have led him to other negative thoughts. He had simply done as he had promised to do, and went to his guardian when he felt overwhelmed. Their new family had passed its first test: Harry had needed someone that would take care of him, like a parent should, and that was exactly what he got. And it felt good.

When they finally arrived for breakfast, Harry noticed Minerva watching him. It was hard not to notice, as he himself was watching her. He could no longer ignore all the little clues, seeing as he had cat hairs on his jeans, and Albus did not own a cat, but was trying hard to not reach a conclusion. They ate and talked about mundane things, when Harry noticed he had a rather thick envelope, which turned out to be from Ginny, sitting next to his plate. He usually read hers in private, but something seemed _off_ with the letter, so he opened it.

He had been right to be concerned. Inside he found a short note from Ginny:

_Harry, I know we will see each other tomorrow, but I thought you had best be prepared. How did they find this stuff out, it's supposed to be privileged information. Read the enclosed, you'll see what I mean._

_Apparating, Harry? Can't you do anything normally? Let me guess, you don't just stand to pee, you float above the urinal. Still, does make me wonder about your 'aura'. Keep smiling, it makes people wonder what you're up to. Ginny_

Enclosed with the note was an article taken from the new issue of _Teen Witches' World_. Harry read the article, then silently passed it to his guardian to read.

POTTER'S POWERS: out of control or out of this world?

Accidental magic is one thing. But Apparating while still in primary school? TWW has received exclusive confirmation that a young Harry Potter did just that. Harry's official story was that he was playing hide-and-seek with his cousin when he tried to jump over a trash can, and a strong wind must have lifted him onto the school roof. But official Ministry files show that an unnamed agent was sent to investigate a report of underage magic. Their recently unearthed report states "after interviewing all witnesses, it is clear to me that the subject (read one Harry Potter) could only have Apparated onto the roof. What astounds me is the control it must have taken to land without falling off the roof." Further in the report it is noted that an hour later his magical signature could still be read, indicating a stronger than average aura.

Most of our readers are familiar with the incident that occurred just prior to Harry's third year at Hogwarts. During a family argument, Harry caused his Aunt to inflate like a balloon. But that was not his first run-in with said Aunt. At the young age of six, yes six, little Harry caused his Aunt's living room to ignite in a non-burning fire. Members of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad were sent to put out the fire and repair damage to several objects that had exploded. According to the official report, it took 2 fully trained wizards to put out Harry's fire! I don't know many Hogwarts 7th Years that can put that much power into a spell. In fact, Harry used so much power that he blacked out, and was later unable to remember the incident. No reason was given for the cause of his outburst, but officials saw no reason to further investigate, so one can only surmise that it was justified.

Some sources at the Ministry, speaking off the record, cowards that they are, have voiced concerns that Harry has too much power, that his accidental magic was too extreme. It has even been hinted that many of his mishaps were not so accidental, if you get their not-so-subtle meaning.

Well, we at TWW respectfully disagree. In our opinion, extreme accidental magic is exactly what one should expect from the Boy Who Lived. How can anyone in their right mind question the powers of the only known survivor of the killing curse? Harry, if you are reading this, know that you have our full support. And if you aren't dating anyone, would you consider an older woman? After all, everyone knows what they say about a man with a big aura.

.

Harry waited for Albus, then Minerva to finish the article. He needed that time to contemplate what he had read. He had no recollection of that incident with Aunt Marge, but then, the article said he wouldn't. Ginny's question came to mind – how _did_ they get that information? But that was soon replaced with another thought – that yet again, others knew more about him than he did himself. This was really starting to piss him off! He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed the others discussing the article. He tuned in to hear Albus finish with "… never could figure out what had caused the scene. I suspect the secret may be buried deep in Harry's mind, but truthfully it seemed best to leave sleeping goats lie."

Coming back to himself, Harry absently corrected, "dogs, Professor, the phrase is 'let sleeping dogs lie'."

"Of course. Dogs. Makes perfect sense that way. I should have realized Aberforth was mistaken. Well, enough dawdling. I believe we have a very full day planned, and that you are anxious to see your friends, Harry. I will be Apparating you directly to the Burrow, from which you can accompany the Weasley family to Diagon Alley by way of the Floo Network. I trust I need not remind you that, as far as your friends are concerned, I retrieved you from your new guardian's care this morning?"

"Yes, Sir. I have that all worked out, thanks to Uncle Abe. I've been with 'the Skipper' this summer. He was a great wizard once, but I suspect he's gone a bit 'round the bend." As he finished speaking, Harry had to move quickly. A large bullfrog, which had recently been his water glass, jumped onto his plate, making his food fly. Harry turned to Minerva, who was trying to keep from laughing. "Yep, definitely a little off. Just this morning he attacked me at breakfast. Good thing his aim isn't what it used to be." He then jumped up from the table and excused himself to clean up.

Harry dressed in his new T-shirt from Ginny, and a pair of comfy, cat-hair free jeans. He had put a casual robe on over his outfit, partly to make Albus (who believed wizards should always wear robes) happy, but mostly to hid the shirt from Mrs. Weasley. He arrived in the entryway to find that Albus had chosen a robe of pure blue with tiny black birds embroidered onto it. "Ravenclaw, Professor?"

Albus didn't answer, unless you counted the slight upturn of his lips, as he held the door open for Harry. As they walked out, Minerva wished them a safe trip, and reminded Harry to tell his friends plenty of stories about the Skipper.

Having Apparated several times now with Albus, Harry was getting quite used to the odd sensation. He secretly thought that he would be able to pick Apparition up easily with all this experience, and was looking forward to the promised lessons. In no time at all, he looked up to see the familiar sight of the Burrow in front of him. Albus quietly whispered "remember, I'm just your Headmaster here," and let go of his arm.

Harry started toward the house just as the door opened. Hermione came running toward Harry, Ginny and Ron following at a slightly slower pace. She reached Harry first, and threw her arms around him.

"Harry, it's about time you got here. You look great. What have you been doing with yourself this summer? Have you grown?" Hermione spoke so quickly that Harry never even registered her questions. He had to pry Hermione off him, just in time to get a hug from Ginny. He didn't end that hug as quickly, and when he pulled away, he and Ginny shared a smile. The moment was lost when Ron pushed his way to Harry to give him a manly slap on the back.

"Yeah, what gives?" Ron exclaimed. "Hermione said you were grieving, but you look fine to me."

"Oh that's tactful, Ron. What he's trying to say is that, er …"

"It's OK Hermione. I know what he's trying to say. I speak guy-talk." Harry was laughing, for he hadn't been offended by Ron's comment. He knew what Ron was really saying. "Remember how I was my first summer here, Ron? It's like that. Once I got away from the Dursley's, things got better. And the best part is, I never have to go back there."

"That would have made Sirius happy," said Ginny. Ron and Hermione watched Harry for any signs that the mention of Sirius would upset Harry, and were surprised when it didn't.

"I know. He really loved me, and wanted me to be happy. We were going to be a family …" Harry took a moment to catch his breath. "but that can't happen now. So I'm making a family of my own. I'm not forgetting him, but I have to keep living my life." His friends could tell that Harry truly meant the words, but the tears threatening to fall hinted at the grief he still felt. It had, after all, been less than 2 months.

"That's very mature, Harry," replied Hermione, who looked like she was about to move in for another hug. Luckily, a voice behind them interrupted.

"Yes, well, now that the greetings are out of the way, perhaps we can all proceed into the house. I am sure Molly would also like the chance to give Harry a hug, and perhaps a bite to eat, and I wouldn't say no to a nice cool glass of lemonade."

Three of the four teens had forgotten that their Headmaster was standing behind them, and they blushed as they started toward the house. Harry winked at his guardian as he fell in step behind the others.

Once inside, Harry discovered that the trip had to be delayed for a couple of hours, as there had been an explosion in Knockturn Alley, harmless in nature, but requiring an evacuation while being cleaned up. (Molly had been assured the twins were _not_ involved.) The adults, including Lupin and Tonks, sipped lemonade while the teens spent the time in the backyard, catching up and listening to stories about the Skipper. Harry was having great fun 'adapting' the most outrageous stories that Uncle Abe had told him. His friends now knew about the Skipper's seaside tours, the reason he wouldn't eat marinated herring, and all about the time he turned his own hair blue to match his girlfriend's eye color.

Molly Weasley, the only adult present who knew the Skipper's true identity, was getting curious looks as she laughed as hard as the kids. She realized as she watched Harry laugh while gesturing wildly with his hands, that she had definitely made the right decision sharing that letter with Albus. She would have gladly taken Harry if she thought it would have been enough, but he needed someone's undivided attention to heal, which she could not have given. She would need to make Albus' sweater extra wooly this Christmas, and maybe some socks to match. Much to her relief, Albus had turned out to be a fine father-figure for Harry. And when Harry and Ginny got married (which in her opinion had been a given since the elbow in the butter incident), that would make Albus … Molly almost dropped her cup in surprise, earning even more looks from the other adults.

At last, word arrived that the Alley was clear, and they made their way there via the Leaky Cauldron, where the patrons pretended not to watch the loved-again Boy Who Lived as he made his way through the crowd. Harry's first stop was Gringotts, where he needed money for not only his school supplies, but the extra Christmas gifts he would be purchasing this winter. Tonks was taking the first shift as his guard, dressed and looking like a teen herself. Walking up to the Goblin on duty, he was relieved that Mrs. Weasley had already made her withdrawal. He remembered his embarrassment the time he had accompanied her, and this time his piles had, according to Albus, grown by leaps and bounds. He and Tonks were shown to a cart, where Harry was surprised to see Albus waiting.

"Hello again, Mister Potter. And Miss Tonks, he said, bowing his head to each. "It appears, Harry, that you and I have similar destinations. Perhaps we can share a cart?" At Harry's acceptance, Albus continued. "I think three would be a bit of a crowd, Miss Tonks, so perhaps you could just wait here?"

As usual, his question wasn't really a question at all, and a few short minutes later Harry and Albus were winding their way down through the passages. Harry was amused to find that Albus enjoyed the ride as much as he did. As the cart stopped, he said to Albus, "Perhaps we should go to a muggle amusement park together. They have loads of rides like this. Dudley used to go on and on about them."

Albus looked, well, giddy at the suggestion. "What a novel idea, I shall indeed consider it. But for now, to business. I am sure you would like to know why I am here."

"I figure you either want to look over the things I got from Sirius or you needed to speak to me privately." Harry handed his vault key to the goblin, and stood aside as the door was opened.

"Excellent deductions. It is actually a bit of both. I had hoped you would not mind if I gave your inheritance a quick going over, and I wanted to make sure you were enjoying yourself. We have been rather isolated at the cottage, and as such I was concerned you might feel overwhelmed being around so many people again." As they talked, Albus had moved into the vault, and Harry had his first good look at its contents. Simply put, it looked ready to overflow. Most of the room was still filled with piles of coins, but there were a lot more piles than before, and they seemed taller. He couldn't be sure, but the room looked bigger, too. There were also shelves along one wall that held things like goblets made of gold or covered in gemstones, chests full of jewels, trinkets, and a sword.

They made their way to the shelves as Harry talked about his visit at the Burrow. Albus performed some quick spells, and several objects flew from the shelves to a pile on the floor. A few more spells, and a second pile was made. Albus seemed satisfied, and asked Harry to avoid those items until they could be thoroughly examined. Harry stopped by a small chest, one of several he thought were new additions, and opened it. Inside were several pieces of jewelry, and a strange statue of a snake wrapped around what looked like a golf ball. _'Gee, a snake. Why am I not surprised.'_ The entire thing was made of some kind of thick black glass, and was cool to the touch. Shifting it to the side, Harry pulled out a necklace, holding it up for inspection.

The necklace was made of pure silver, and appeared to flow as it dangled from his hand. In the front of the necklace were fine leaves of silver, crafted to look as if they were growing from a vine. Inside each leaf were tiny diamonds, sparkling as they reflected the light. And hanging from the leaves, spaced about an inch apart, were five white pearls. He knew they were pearls, as Aunt Petunia had a plain string of pearls she wore rather proudly, but there was definitely something magical about these pearls. They seemed to glow, a pale blue light that was barely visible, but Harry was sure it was there. He instantly knew that Ginny had to have this necklace.

He held the necklace toward Albus. "Professor, I want to give this necklace to someone for her birthday. Do you think it is safe?"

Albus took the necklace from Harry and studied it. "It appears to be, but if you will let me take it for awhile, I will have it checked by an expert. I am sure you do not want to give Miss Weasley any nasty surprises with her gift."

"Thank you, Sir." Harry realized he would have to say something to Ginny soon if he was that obvious. He turned away from the chest to fill his money bag before moving toward the door to wait for Albus to finish. They left shortly afterwards, once again enjoying the ride. Tonks was waiting at the top, and she whisked Harry away saying they were late meeting the others.

A few hours, and several stores later, Harry had most of his shopping done. At the bookstore, he had had to listen to Ron's tirade about Harry's class selections this year. Earlier, the trio had compared their grades and classes, and Ron had not been pleased. The trio only had three classes together: Charms, Defense, and Transfiguration. While Ron and Hermione were continuing Herbology, Harry was taking his abridged O.W.L. Harry had told them he was taking Care of Magical Creatures with Ron, but knew he would be 'dropping' that to take Potions, and Hermione hadn't signed up for it at all.

So while they picked out their books, Ron had carried on with comments like 'you're mad, remember Hermione Third Year?', 'what do you need extra classes for anyway, I didn't take them', and Harry's personal favorite, 'I never expected you to go all Percy on us'. Ginny had eventually heard enough, and she told Ron to stuff it. Hermione offered her help with Arithmancy, even going so far as to offer to let him read, but not keep, her old notes. Harry had skipped the Apothecary as requested, trusting that Albus would get him what he needed. Ron had also not gotten an 'O' in Potions, so the two of them, plus Lupin, had decided to wait for the girls and Tonks in the candy shop.

Now, Harry had noticed the usual looks and whispers throughout the day, they had started the moment he had appeared in the Leaky Cauldron, after all, but had learned long ago to just ignore them. But this particular store seemed to have an abnormally high number of teenage girls in it, and spotting Harry and Ron by themselves, they became a bit bolder in their actions. By one display, two girls, Ravenclaws Harry thought, were loudly discussing how they wished they played Quidditch so they could get Harry to chase them. Standing off to the left of them, a mother was telling her young daughter that proper ladies don't speculate on the size of a man's aura.

Finally, one girl decided to be brave – _'leave it to the little Gryffindor'_ – and she approached Harry. "Hiya Harry. I'm Liesl, I'll be a Fourth Year this year, in Gryffindor of course, and I might try out for the Quidditch team. You're back on, aren't you? Oh, we were terrible without you last year." Seeing Ron, she quickly amended, "well, you know what I mean. Anyhow, I just wanted you to know that my friends and I, we all think you're amazing. And anyone who thinks otherwise is just stupid." She nodded her head sharply to emphasize her point. "Well, that's all I wanted to say. I'll see you in the common room, then. Bye, Harry."

As she walked away, leaving a dumb-struck Ron and self-conscious Harry, Lupin could no longer contain his laughter. Leaving the shadows from which he had observed the entire exchange, he approached the boys. "Well, Harry, it appears you've made yourself a new fan. Should definitely make for an interesting year, wouldn't you say, Ron?"

"Blimey, Harry. That girl! She just came over here and talked to you. And her friends, they were all … they were … _checking you out_." Ron looked Harry over, much like the girls in the store were doing.

Harry was not amused. Strange girls behaving, well, strangely, he could handle. He remembered the Yule ball all too well. But Ron acting strangely, well, OK, he was used to that too, but in this particular instance, he was finding it unsettling. "What are you doing, Ron?"

Continuing to appraise his friend, Ron replied, "Trying to see what the fuss is about. Frankly, I don't get it."

"Good. I don't need you going all weird on me, too. Come on Ron, if Lupin here is done laughing, we can go meet the girls." Harry looked at Lupin, who swept his arm wide as if to say 'after you'. They quickly found the girls as they were leaving the Apothecary. Done with their school shopping, they found Mrs. Weasley who, having run out of excuses, finally let them check out Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

As they approached the store, Harry saw the sign for 'U-No-Poo', and started to laugh. The friends entered cautiously, not sure what to expect. Inside, the store was packed, ensuring that Filch would be kept busy, hopefully giving him less time to terrorize the students. After looking everything over, and listening to the twins giving Ron a hard time, Harry had browsed the back room, where the twins had their collection of "real" products. To say Harry was impressed would have been an understatement.

Fred was showing Harry some of the products when he felt the call of nature. Fred guided him into the storage room behind another curtain, pointing out the first door past the old wardrobe. Harry cautiously wound his way between stacks of boxes, finally finding the room. He had finished and was making his way back, when he was suddenly pulled into the wardrobe. He pulled his wand, and was preparing the turn and attack, when he heard a soft voice. "I didn't think I would ever get you alone today, Harry."

If Harry was surprised to find himself inside an old wardrobe with Ginny Weasley, alone, he did a remarkable job of hiding it. He also kept his wand handy. Common sense really, considering the rather large number of Weasley men in the store. With the doors closed, the inside of the wardrobe was dark, so he couldn't see her that well. Instinctively, he put his arm around her and pulled her close. He heard her gasp of surprise at his move, but she didn't pull away.

Harry knew that most people, friends included, believed that his relationship with Cho had consisted of one hesitant kiss under the mistletoe, and one disastrous trip to Madam Puddifoot's. But just because they hadn't seen the relationship didn't mean it didn't exist. Their first kiss may not have been that spectacular, but their second, and third, and then all the _other_ stuff that had followed, sure had been. He just wasn't the type to kiss and tell. Thank the founders for secret passageways!

"Well, we seem to be alone now. What did you have in mind?" He thought he felt her catch her breath.

"Maybe I just wanted to see what you would do," Ginny bravely said.

"But it's dark in here, so how will you see this?" And before he had time to talk himself out of it, he leaned down and kissed her. It was not a long kiss, not too deep or full of passion, but it left them both breathless nonetheless. "You've become important to me, Ginny. I don't think I would have survived this …"

Whatever Harry was about to say was cut off by a loud bang, followed by a grinding noise. Harry and Ginny heard a loud voice saying "Good thing I remembered to lock that old wardrobe. There might be a boggart in there. I hope Harry doesn't take too much longer in the loo, I think Ginny was looking for him."

Ginny reached behind Harry to try the door, only to find it locked. Someone, Fred or George from the sound of it, must have seen Ginny pull Harry in, and decided the setup for a good prank was too good to pass up.

Harry and Ginny were left trying to figure out how to get out of the wardrobe without calling attention to the fact that they were _in_ the wardrobe in the first place. Frustrated, Ginny had resorted to silently cursing whichever twin had locked them in when she backed onto Harry's foot, causing him to lose his balance and fall against the back wall. To his surprise, it moved slightly, and he noticed two things very quickly. First, there was a sliver of light getting into the wardrobe; and second, he could hear voices. This wardrobe contained a hidden doorway between two rooms! He immediately pushed Ginny away from him, and motioned her to remain silent, not that she needed the advice. Harry realized that at some point he had dropped his wand, his hands being otherwise occupied, and he quickly bent to retrieve it. As he stooped down, he heard something that made his blood go cold.

"Did you hear something?" asked the undeniable voice of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Stop trying to change the subject, Bella. The Dark Lord is not pleased with either of us right now. We cannot afford to make any mistakes. You must pay attention to what I am saying, wife," said, presumably, her husband.

"Yes, yes, Bella. You mustn't make any more mistakes," said a third voice that both Harry and Ginny recognized – Snape.

"I'm not trying to change the subject, I heard something. And I did pay attention," Bella snapped back. "Find Potter, bring him to the Dark Lord alive. I am no fool, I understand the word alive. But, and correct me if I am wrong, _Professor_, there is a difference between alive and unharmed." She laughed as she added something that only her husband could hear, causing him to laugh as well.

Harry's mouth was very dry at this point, and he had to remind himself to breath. He moved slowly back to Ginny, and pulled her close. He whispered into her ear, "Stay quiet. Do you have your wand?" He felt more than saw Ginny nod, and continued. "Keep it ready. Be prepared for anything." He waited until she nodded again, and then let her move away. Now he just needed to find a way to save them. Turning back to listen to what was happening in the room, he realized that Bella was still talking.

"Maybe I can make a man of him before our Lord kills him. It would be a waste if he had to die a virgin." She laughed, and added to her husband. "You could help, dearie. You might need to show him what he's supposed to do. I wonder if dear Sirius ever explained it to him before his sudden departure."

"Really Bella, how crude can you be?" Snape intoned. "I believe that Azkaban addled your brain more than we realized. Although with you it is especially hard to see the difference. Are you seriously planning to molest the boy? Do you really feel it wise to incur the Dark Lord's wrath for what I can only presume would be a rather disappointing experience?"

Instead of being offended, Bella sounded amused. "Oh Severus, me thinks thou protest too much. Does little baby Potter threaten your manhood?"

"Bella, enough," her husband finally cut in. "We are wasting time. Potter is in the Alley today. He was spotted near the jewelers not even an hour ago. Get your cloak so we can go."

Harry and Ginny instinctively stepped back as they heard someone, most likely Bella, moving toward them. Ginny tried one more time, but the doors behind them still would not budge. They were stuck, and they were about to be discovered.

**** end chapter ****

**Notes:** Don't worry – **there will be no rape or sexual abuse in this story**. Bella is certifiable in canon, but I've added a bit of what Helena Bonham Carter brought to the character. The way she taunts Harry at the Ministry, I can see her deciding that her Lord deserves the honor of killing a man, not a little boy. And in her distorted mind, there is only one thing that separates the men from the boys. So that's what she would think to do. But trust me, in this case she is all talk.

TWW article – I modeled it on the tween magazines my daughter reads combined with a bit of a 'Star' type magazine. Of course, they are going to exaggerate! And I don't even think that magical 'aura' is technically a part of Jo's world, but it seemed like the kind of urban legend the magazine would play on.

Dumbledore – I had this drafted way before I stumbled across Jo outing him, so in my story, he's straight. Not that there's anything wrong with that!


	13. A little soul goes a long way

Just a quick reminder, this story started at the end of Order of the Phoenix (thus the name, _follow_ the phoenix), but from that point on, things can and will change. This isn't just a re-writing of HBP, and not everything that happened in HBP will happen here. That said, you need to know that for my purposes, the 'memories' discussed in my story are exactly the same as they appeared in HBP. I don't see any point in copying them, so if you need reminded of their contents, I refer you to the original book.

**Le****gal stuff:** My husband asked me if I was still writing my story, and I told him yes; he asked how it was going and I said it was going pretty good (because, conversationally, don't we all use good when we mean well?). Then he asked if I would make lots of money off it, and I said um, (the American word for er) no, only Jo was allowed to make money off Harry Potter. Which makes it fortunate that Harry doesn't have to work. Can you imagine putting your life on the line as an Auror and having to give your paycheck to some rich lady because she 'owns' you? So, maybe next chapter I'll just go back to my standard disclaimer. Yeah.

.

.

**13. A little soul goes a long way**

As Harry watched the shadow move closer, he knew they were out of time. He desperately pushed Ginny behind him, and raised his wand. As the door was pulled open, Harry shouted "Stupefy", aiming his wand at the figure in front of him. As the first person fell, he moved to aim at a new opponent, not caring who is was; but having lost the element of surprise, the spell was easily blocked. He got off a third spell which also missed, when a jet of blue light came flying toward the wardrobe. Not having room to maneuver, nor time to counter, Harry was hit and became instantly dizzy. He nearly dropped his wand, but was able to hold onto it as he leaned on the side of the door frame to steady himself.

As Harry was trying to remain upright, Ginny had the time to cast a shield charm, stopping the Disarming Spell that had come toward them. There was little more she could do; she couldn't go on the offensive while Harry was still unable to defend himself. Then a thought came to her, and she started kicking the doors behind her, hoping to get her brother's attention.

Harry quickly scanned the room, hoping to spot something that might help. The room appeared to be an office, with chairs and a couch squeezed in around filing cabinets; a desk the only thing in the middle of the room. A wizard that Harry recognized as Rodolphus Lestrange was casting 'Ennervate' on his wife. A third Death Eater, wearing the standard robe and mask, was standing further back, his wand aimed at Harry.

Having recognized his voice earlier, Harry knew him to be Snape, but the thought brought him little comfort. No matter which side he was really on, in this instance he had to play the part of loyal Death Eater. As Bellatrix retrieved her wand from the floor, Harry pushed himself off the door frame, trying to shake away the dizziness to face Sirius' killer. It didn't really help, but he had to do something – not fighting wasn't an option. He haphazardly aimed his wand as he shouted "Expelliarmus" in rapid succession, hoping to hit someone. He got lucky when one landed on Snape, but instead of pulling the wand from his right hand, it pulled a small vial from his left. Harry and Ginny both knew enough to dodge away from the incoming bottle.

By now, Bella was looking into the wardrobe, a mad gleam in her eye, and Harry was reminded that this was also the woman that had tortured Neville's parents into insanity. She laughed, and stepped around her husband to face Harry.

"My, my, little Harry. Hiding alone with a girl? Not such a baby anymore, are you? How delightful that you saved us the trouble of looking for you." She prowled closer – she was almost close enough to touch him now – as she spoke quietly, almost intimately. "You were lucky the last time, you know that, don't you?" She came one step closer, and reached her hand toward him. Harry, his head still spinning, felt frozen in place. "You got me in quite a bit of trouble by losing that prophecy." She was close enough that he could feel her breath on his face as she spoke, and she ran her hand through his hair. "We'll have to find a way for you make it up to me."

Her hand abruptly left Harry, reaching behind him to grasp Ginny. She attempted to yank Ginny out of the wardrobe, but Harry was not going to let that happen. Forgetting his wand, he used what had worked during 'Harry hunting'; he thrust his hands forward, knocking Bellatrix in the shoulders and pushing her backward. Bella had to let go of Ginny to balance herself, while Harry stopped Ginny from tumbling onto the floor.

Bella shrieked in rage, and pointed her wand at Harry, shouting "Crucio." He was forced to release Ginny as he fell to the ground, finally dropping his wand and screaming in agony. Ginny yelled for her to stop, which only made her laugh as she continued to hold the spell on Harry.

Snape, who to this point had stayed out of the fray, saw Ginny preparing to cast a spell, and aimed his wand at her, loudly yelling "Petrificus Totalus". She heard the incantation just in time, and dodged to the side. The spell hit the locked doors behind her, splintering them and leaving a large gap. Ginny tumbled out of the wardrobe, stopping herself in a crouching position as she heard startled cries.

Through the newly made opening, Arthur Weasley and Remus Lupin, who had been looking for the missing teens, could hardly believe what they saw. Arthur quickly jerked the doors open, and tore through the wardrobe, charging Bella so that she had to drop her spell. The combined effect from the two spells left Harry disoriented and panting on the floor.

Remus took a second to send his Patronus for help before joining the fight. Not knowing who the masked Death Eater was, he raced to the far side of the room and quickly engaged him.

Rodolphus had been standing silently to the side, content to let his wife play with Potter and his friend; so when the adults arrived, he went unnoticed. Seizing this advantage, he moved back toward the wardrobe, and reached over Harry (who was still lying on the floor) to grab Ginny. Not wanting to hurt Harry, Ginny hurdled him as she moved toward the older wizard. When she was close enough, she lifted her knee and jammed it into his groin with the force of a Bludger. He instantly released her as he doubled over in pain, joining Harry on the floor.

Unfortunately, Arthur had allowed himself to be distracted by his daughter's plight, and Bellatrix was able hit him with a Blinding spell. She turned her attention back to Harry, who had wrestled Rodolphus' wand away, probably breaking the man's nose in the process, and was now reaching for his own. Cackling, she shouted a spell Harry didn't recognize. He felt a sharp pain across his chest, and looked down to see his shirt and skin split open, blood flowing freely. Bella tried to move forward to grab him, when Arthur (who had by then broken the Blinding spell) hit her in the leg with a mild Reducto Curse. Already in motion, the momentum of the spell sent her to the ground, where she clutched at her mangled leg.

Arthur moved to his daughter and rapidly looked her over before sending her back into the twins' shop, thankful when she went without argument. He then turned his attention to her would-be boyfriend. He was shocked to see that Harry had fallen back to the floor, and there was blood pooling underneath him. It was a hard decision to make, but he knew that the Death Eaters were the more immediate threat, so he cast a quick Anti-Disapparation Jinx directly on Harry, then turned his attention to the one with the mask.

Snape, meanwhile, was tiring of his game with the werewolf, and he knew that the rest of the Order would not be far behind. He had also seen that Arthur had protected the stupid boy, so the 'mission' was scrapped. Rather pleased with himself for a part well played, he decided to take his leave, Disapparating before he could be stopped. Bella and Rodolphus, seeing their chance at grabbing Potter gone thanks to the blood traitor's jinx, followed Snape in disappearing. Arthur immediately moved to Harry's side while the ever-alert Remus moved around the room checking for other possible dangers.

The sound of the double Disapparation had barely stopped when Albus entered the room. In seemingly no time he had surveyed the scene, and swiftly moved to Harry's side. Giving his charge a quick once-over, he effortlessly closed the wound. He looked down at the barely conscious boy, who was obviously still in pain both from the wound and from the earlier curse, and whispered, "I am so sorry, my boy. It seems I have failed you yet again." Aloud, he added, "I am going to put you in an enchanted sleep so we can move you without further discomfort. Do you understand?" When he saw Harry nod weakly, he cast the spell, then lifted Harry in his arms. Arthur helped him carry the teen back into the shop.

Harry was taken to the private apartment upstairs, where he was placed on one of the twin's beds. Tonks, who as an Auror had emergency medical training, checked Harry over before having Albus wake him so she could give him potions for pain and to replenish the lost blood. He was warned to get plenty of rest tonight, and to 'take it easy' for a few days. Since he was still groggy from being cursed, not to mention the enchanted sleep, he readily agreed.

Once he'd been cleaned up a bit, Harry's friends came in to say goodbye, and Fred sheepishly apologized for locking the wardrobe doors. As the others backed away, Harry asked Ginny to stay a minute so he could make sure she wasn't hurt. Once they were both satisfied that the other would be fine, Harry pulled Ginny close, and whispering that they would have to finish their talk later. He'd have much preferred to kiss her goodbye, but they had a rather large audience, so he settled for a hug. When the other teens had been ushered out of the room, Harry stubbornly refused any help in getting to his feet, taking the offered Portkey without complaint. After the hated sensation passed, he found himself safe in his own bedroom, where Dobby was waiting with his pajamas and a bowl of broth.

While he was eating, Albus came to check him over personally. He explained that the doorway, which had led into the back office of a bakery, had been closed and sealed. The bakery would be investigated for suspected Death Eater ties.

But mention of the Death Eaters reminded Harry of one very important detail, and he nearly dumped his tray on himself as he exclaimed, "Snape was there, Professor. He was one of the Death Eaters that attacked us. He was probably wanting to take me to Voldemort personally."

Albus smiled sadly, if such a thing was possible, as he replied, "I am well aware of the identities of all three of the Death Eaters. But I caution you, Harry, not to jump to conclusions. After all, didn't you also think Professor Snape was the one trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone?"

"Well, yes," replied a suddenly embarrassed Harry, "but … you have to admit, from our viewpoint, it made sense. And he _was_ involved in the jinxed broom, just not the way we'd thought. But still, he – "

"Harry," Albus interrupted, perhaps a bit harsher than necessary, "do you trust me?"

Harry sighed as he replied, "Yeah … I mean, yes." He knew where this was going.

"Then trust me when I say that Professor Snape was never a threat." When he saw that Harry was about to interrupt, he silenced the boy with one look. "You and your friends were beyond lucky at the Ministry; it was only fear of breaking the prophecy that held the Death Eaters back. Bellatrix had no such compulsion today. In fact, she and her husband did their best to hurt you, despite orders to the contrary. Had Professor Snape truly been on their side, do you really doubt that he – the man who has made tormenting Harry Potter an art form – would have passed the opportunity to curse you without fear of reprisal?"

"When you put it that way, I guess not," Harry conceded, but he couldn't stop himself from adding, "I mean, he can hardly go five minutes in class without saying or doing something to torment me. And it's like he purposely seeks me out in the hallways at night in the hopes of catching me doing something wrong."

At this, Albus actually cracked a smile. "Wouldn't the mere fact that you are out after curfew rather prove his presumption correct?"

"I … er … I just meant that you're right," Harry stammered in reply, "he could have done a lot worse to us. So … alright, I'll trust you, and I won't say anything to anyone about him being there."

But that wasn't what Albus had in mind, and he let the boy know. "Actually," he said, his eyes seeming to twinkle despite being in a darkened room, "feel free to complain to all your friends that you insisted it was him, but that I refused to discuss the issue with you. It never hurts to misdirect the enemy."

Seeking to change the subject, Harry asked about something else that was on his mind – the fate of Rodolphus' wand. A smiling Albus informed the boy that the Death Eater had been in such a hurry to leave that he had left it behind. Since Harry had 'won' it in battle, it was now considered his wand. He pointed to the desk, where the prize wand now lay next to Harry's own. After giving Harry a quick hug he left the room and went downstairs, where Minerva was waiting with a mug of hot chocolate, and to tell him, again, that he had not failed Harry today.

Harry was served breakfast in bed the next morning, as he had been ordered to stay in bed for 24 hours. It was a bit excessive he felt, but Albus had insisted; Harry supposed that since this was the old man's first time with a "sick child", he would humor him. As he was finishing his breakfast, Albus and Minerva came in to say good morning. Albus handed Harry a pouch, which Harry discovered contained the necklace he had found for Ginny. The Headmaster assured Harry that the necklace was perfectly safe, and would make an excellent gift. After a brief visit, the two excused themselves, telling Harry they would check on him again after lunch.

Once they had left, Harry decided to get Ginny's birthday present ready to send. He wrapped the necklace case in brightly colored paper supplied by Dobby, and put it back in the small pouch. Now he just needed a card, but he hadn't had a chance to buy one yesterday. Rummaging through his desk for something suitable, he remembered the hand-made card she had once sent him. An idea forming in his mind, he took a sheet of parchment out, and began to write:

_My eyes are green, a card once read  
Like pickled frog, I think it said  
But green would not look good on you__  
You need a color pure and true  
This gift contains something white  
On you it will be a pretty sight_

_Sorry Gin, that's about the extent of my poetic talent. I hope you don't mind getting a used gift, but when I found this, I knew it would be beautiful on you. I think it must be a Black family piece, I found it in the stuff I got from Sirius anyway. I've been assured that Professor Dumbledore himself checked it, and it's completely safe. Whenever you wear it, know that I am thankful to have you._

_Happy Birthday, Harry_

Satisfied with his work, or at least not completely embarrassed by it, he slipped the note into the pouch with the necklace, and called Hedwig over. "Here you go, girl. Try to give it to Ginny when no one else is around, could you?" Hedwig hooted her understanding, and headed out toward the Burrow. Harry watched her leave, and then decided to spend some time looking over his new Arithmancy book. He had lots of free time on his hands, and figured he might was well make it useful.

Downstairs, Minerva had turned on her dear friend. "Albus, isn't that necklace a bit much for him to give as a gift? Those are Diri pearls, taken from the gizzard of a Diricawl. It is probably worth more than a year's tuition."

"Nonsense. To Harry it is simply a pretty gift freely given to a close friend. Its true value isn't in its worth but in its meaning. I doubt Harry has even considered its worth. Now, he is going to be confined to his room for the rest of the morning. Is there any special way you would care to spend our time?"

-000-

After a few days of forced rest – meaning no flying and lots of sitting – Harry had become restless. He was perfectly fine, but Albus had insisted. The man had definitely developed a protective streak, and would not be deterred. Harry bitterly remembered Tonks' words the day of the attack ('take it easy') and swore that the next time – and he had no doubt there would be a next time – he would ask for more specific instructions.

While 'taking it easy', he had looked over all of his new textbooks (and read another paperback, twice), and had even begun working on problems from his Arithmancy text. He and Ginny had also been writing almost daily, but that hardly took up any time. His most recent letter, for example, had explained how the Headmaster had worked directly with a new Order member in the Improper Use of Magic Office to see that any future use of underage magic reports got "misfiled". It was due to this boredom that Harry happily went for another exam by Doctor Bombay. He figured another visit with the eccentric man was a small price to pay for his freedom. Luckily, an impending golf game kept the Doctor from going beyond a quick check of his wound, which had of course completely healed, inside and out, without even leaving a scar. Harry had been surprised to hear just how serious the wound could have been, had Albus not arrived when he had.

It was just after Harry was 'released from house arrest', as he called it, that his daily routine underwent another drastic change. With school opening soon, Albus and Minerva were required to move back to the castle. The trouble with this was that, strictly speaking, the only students allowed at Hogwarts during the summer were the children of the staff. Being Albus' legal ward gave Harry the right to be there, but as this was not to be public knowledge (known only to a select few who would fiercely protect the information, and Uncle Abe, who no one would believe), they wouldn't be able to use that explanation for Harry's presence.

Albus had therefore decided that Harry would be hidden. An extra bedroom was added to Albus' private quarters. Harry was allowed to move around the castle, under his cloak of course, but was cautioned to steer clear of the dungeons for obvious reasons. After a bit of arguing, it had been decided that he could use the chapel passageway to fly in the meadow, under two conditions. He had to agree to only fly between lunch and dinner, and to always take Dobby with him for safety. It was also decided that he should keep his broom at the guardhouse, as he could travel lighter and stealthier without it. He would have to eat in their rooms, however Albus had promised to attend at least one meal with him daily, Minerva sometimes joining them. Harry had thought that he would get rather lonely not being with his friends much this summer, but to his surprise he had found himself enjoying this time by himself, knowing that soon the castle would be crowded, and he would probably have little freedom and no privacy.

After being cooped up in his room for so long, Harry easily adapted to the new restrictions, basking in the freedom it afforded him. His Marauder-within was delighted when he realized that this was great practice for when school was in session, and he wanted to prowl after hours. So in addition to his cloak, he often had his map with him, and even the new one from Dobby. He made it a personal goal to find and explore the other common rooms before school started.

-000-

Five days before school was to start found Albus sitting in his office with Harry across from him, both in comfortable chairs by the fire. Albus had been putting off this discussion until he felt that Harry was over his troubles sufficiently to handle the added stress. This morning he had received an update from Dr. Tony concerning that very thing. In his professional opinion, Harry was past the dangerous phase, in no small part because he had _"established a supportive relationship" _which _"afforded him a mechanism to better deal with stress"._ While he strongly encouraged that the therapy continue, as Harry obviously still had issues, he felt that they would be able to cut back to every other week in September.

Given this new information, Albus knew it was time, so he had invited Harry for tea after dinner. Harry waited patiently as Albus seemed content to sit and share small talk as they sipped their tea, knowing that eventually the Headmaster would get to his point. Finally, setting his cup aside, Albus looked Harry in the eye, and spoke, "Well, enough pleasantries. Are you ready to understand evil, Harry?"

Harry blinked. Of all the things he had thought Albus might want to discuss tonight, that one had to be at the bottom of the list. "I'm sorry, Sir? Did you say evil, as in good versus?"

"Tom Riddle, Voldemort, You-Know-Who. Give him any name you want, but you are talking about evil. To defeat him, we must understand him, at least enough to find his weaknesses. Already, for example, we know that he does not believe in love; that he will underestimate the simple power of love again and again. And so, we will be doing a bit of exploring if you will, digging into his life history. We are going to be reviewing everything I know, and think I know, about his life, both before and after becoming Voldemort. We are going to start with a trip into my pensieve. I believe you have used one before?"

Harry had the grace to turn a bit red as he said yes. Albus motioned him over to the stone basin, and then spoke. "I wonder, Harry, if you remember when Hagrid delivered your Hogwarts letter? If I recall correctly, he told me that you did not believe him at first, that you said there was nothing special about yourself."

"That's true, Sir. My Aunt and Uncle would basically tell me I was worthless, and I guess I rather believed them, so I figured there had to be a mistake. As for magic, they would punish me for even saying the word."

Albus hesitated for a moment. Harry didn't speak much about his childhood, but when he did Albus seldom liked what he heard. But now was not the time, so he filed this away for later, and got back to the task at hand. "What you are about to see is Tom Riddle's reaction to the news that he was a wizard. I believe you will be able to spot the differences in the two of you immediately. Place your hands on the pensieve, Harry." And together, they viewed Albus' memory of the day he invited an orphan named Tom Riddle to Hogwarts.

Once back in their chairs, they discussed the rather disturbing scene, and the implications of Tom using magic to terrorize other children, especially at such a young age.

"Now you see, Harry. Tom Riddle made his choice at an early age. And remember, when you were roughly the same age, you made the exact opposite choice. You chose goodness over power and glory, or whatever nonsense he offered you in front of the Mirror of Erised. He is evil, more so than any human I have ever encountered; I dare say he is what Muggle religions refer to as evil incarnate. When I once told you that he was less than human now, you perhaps did not understand how accurate that description was.

Albus paused to garner Harry's full attention before continuing. "It is imperative that you understand what I am about to explain; something I've long suspected about Voldemort but which I have never discussed with another person, not even Minerva. In fact, what we are about to discuss is a forbidden subject, and was banned from Hogwarts before I was even a student, although the ban has not always been enforced as stringently as I would like.

"Harry, you are familiar with the Dementor's Kiss, yes? It causes, as you know, the removal of ones soul from ones body. But have you ever considered if it was possible to remove only part of the soul?"

Harry was befuddled; when he thought about it, he sort of thought of the soul as a bit like the Muggle concept of a single-cell organism. It wasn't made up of parts, it simply existed. "I can't say that I have," he answered. "You mean, like if the Dementor stops before the soul is completely out?"

Albus nodded. "Well, that's not exactly what I mean, but I think you are at least grasping the concept. In simplified terms Harry, when one commits the most evil act – murder – ones soul is split, torn apart by the vile nature of the act itself. It then becomes possible to remove the fractured piece of the soul, and hide it in another object."

"But why would anyone do that," Harry wanted to know. "Don't you need your soul to be a real person? People who have been Kissed aren't really themselves anymore."

"Exactly," Albus said. "But remember, when their entire soul is removed, their body does not die. It lives on until the soul has been completely consumed, or digested if you will. Only then does the body die. But if only part of the soul was removed, the body would not only continue to live, but would still retain its sense of self."

Harry quickly compared this to what he knew about Voldemort. "Bloody hell! That's what he's done, isn't it?" He felt his stomach turning at the thought of doing something so _unnatural_. "He did things to make himself immortal, he said so that night in the graveyard. He split his soul, and then he removed part of it, didn't he?"

"Yes, I believe he did. In fact, I believe that at quite a young age, before leaving Hogwarts even, he had already split his soul. He would have removed a piece of it, called a sawol, from his body, and hid it in a Horcrux, which is what we call the vessel which holds the sawol. It is both unnatural and quite illegal, neither of which would have concerned Tom Riddle."

They sat in silence for a time, while Harry digested this information, and Albus considered the rest of the story. Harry finally spoke again. "So that's why you weren't trying to kill him at the Ministry? I had thought, after you told me the prophecy, that it was because I was supposed to be the one to kill him, but it was because he couldn't be killed, because he has a Horcrux."

"Close, Harry," Albus said calmly, never once betraying the distress he felt at hearing what Harry had thought about the Ministry battle. "Please trust that, if I could rid the world of Tom Riddle once and for all, I would, prophecy be damned! Unfortunately, I know that a person who has a Horcrux cannot die, for death only occurs when the entire soul is gone. The Horcrux keeps the sawol earthbound, keeping the person alive, though it would not be much of a life, bodiless and powerless, as Voldemort can no doubt attest. Such a person would need to find a way to restore the sawol to a body to truly live."

Harry felt a cold chill on his spine. "Restore to a body? That's what the memory of Tom Riddle was trying to do, in the Chamber of Secrets. He was somehow killing Ginny to create a new body for himself. I remember how, at first he seemed like a ghost, but as we talked, he got clearer, strong enough to even use my wand. That diary, was it his Horcrux?"

"Very good. I do believe that the diary was a Horcrux," Albus responded, but then he stopped talking and seemed to be just sitting patiently.

Harry was still for a moment as he considered this. "But that can't be right, or else you would have been able to kill him at the Ministry. Unless …. do you think he made more than one? Is that even possible?"

Albus sipped his tea before answering. "There are to my knowledge no recorded instances of such occurring, but I believe it would be possible. You saw him as a sixteen year old, looking perfectly normal, handsome in fact. And you saw him in the graveyard. What you saw that night was not the result of his rebirthing, for he was restored back to the body which had been destroyed. He had become less human as the years went by. I believe this was the result of making multiple Horcruxes."

Albus saw a panicked look in Harry's eyes. "Relax, Harry. Drink some tea, or maybe have a lemon drop. Tom is not as untouchable as he thinks he is. Horcruxes can be found and destroyed, as you have already proven." Albus could see that Harry was rather upset, or maybe sickened was the right term, by what he had revealed.

Albus reached over and grasped Harry's hand, giving it a light squeeze. "I think we shall stop here for today. I have given you perhaps too much to digest at one time. For that I apologize, but I need you to understand the basics before we can begin our hunt." He smiled as that caught Harry's attention.

"Tomorrow, you will accompany me to an Order meeting. You will be allowed to attend the meeting, under your wonderful cloak and a well placed silencing charm. Don't look so surprised," he laughed, "we are both learning from our mistakes of the past. I cannot promise you will be able to attend all meetings, but you will be kept informed this year. After the meeting, our hunt begins. You and I will be making a stop to visit an old friend. I believe you will be most helpful in persuading him to help us. It is my hope that by this time tomorrow, we will better understand what we are facing."

Dobby brought a treacle tart and fresh tea, and Albus and Harry spent the rest of their time talking about rather boring and perfectly ordinary things. As they parted ways, Albus informed Harry that he would be leaving shortly for a secret meeting with members of the Organized Sorcery Union (OSU for short) from North America. These meetings always took place at strange hours to accommodate the time difference, so he did not expect to be back before 5AM. Harry would be perfectly safe if he stayed in their rooms.

With Albus gone, Harry decided it was the perfect time to give the bathtub a try. It was similar to the one in the prefect bathroom, although perhaps a bit narrower, and no annoying mermaid painting or voyeuristic ghost in sight. He swam and soaked until the water lost its heat, then put on fresh boxers, and climbed into bed, certain he would have no trouble drifting off to sleep now.

It didn't take long for him to realize he was wrong. In fact, he couldn't stay relaxed at all. He found his mind dwelling on the Horcruxes. Finally, he forced his mind to a more pleasant topic - Ginny. He was reliving their kiss, and wondering what would have happened had they not been interrupted. As he laid there in the dark, the images became more _suggestive_. Harry opened his bedside drawer, and took out his favorite of the old paperbacks he had taken from his Aunt.

The book opened to one of his favorite sections. Harry relaxed under his blankets, and began reading: 'his hand slipped inside her cloak, and he began to caress her body … his hand slide down again … roaming down past her waist … onto her thighs … then slipped over her satiny skin … ' Harry dropped the book and moaned. Just thinking of touching Ginny that way was nearly his undoing. He closed his eyes, and imagined the two of them together. Imagined that it was her hand, and not his own. Imagined that it was _her_ moaning out _his_ name.

****end chapter****

**Notes:** I didn't want to constantly type "the piece of soul inside the Horcrux", so I gave it a name – 'sawol', which is the Old English word for soul. One of the reasons I rewrote the Horcrux discussion is because I wanted to give Harry a chance to figure part of it out on his own. The kid gets better than average grades, but it seems like either Albus or Hermione are always having to explain everything. I wanted to establish that he can figure things out for himself. About the OSU – go buckeyes! The book excerpt is from "No Other Love" again, this time starting on page 159.


	14. Kreacher Feature

Legal Stuff: I don't own any of the people, places, or things that you recognize. Following that logic, I can't tell you what kind of car I drive, cause if you recognized it, that would mean I didn't own it. Huh, I might have to rethink my disclaimer.

.

.

**14. Kreacher Feature**

It was after lunch the next day that Albus summoned Harry to his office for the promised meeting. Normally, they spent their time together in their rooms, so Harry hadn't spent much time in the office. He took a moment to look around, and to his great surprise, he couldn't figure out what was missing. '_was he able to repair everything?_' He looked up and noticed Albus watching him. "About your things, Sir. I am sorry for breaking them. I was just …"

Albus forestalled the unnecessary explanation, by holding up his hand and saying, "Quite alright, Harry. I told you then that I had too many possessions, and as you can see, I did not exaggerate. I was able to refill the empty spots with some of the many trinkets I've had in storage, with still many left over." Albus stood and moved around his desk, coming to Harry's side, and motioning toward the fireplace. "Now, if you are ready, I think in this instance it is easiest if we use the Floo Network. Remember to say the entire address, and speak clearly, won't you?" As Albus said this, he took a pouch of powder from his robe, and held it out for Harry.

"Er, what exactly would that address be, Sir?" Harry wearily inquired.

Albus mentally braced himself for any reaction. "Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, London. I believe you are familiar with it."

Harry looked at Albus, his unease showing on his face. "I'm not sure I'm ready for that, Sir," he quietly said.

Albus placed his free hand on Harry's shoulder, re-assuring the boy. "You are, Harry. Putting off what must be done will only make it harder to do down the road. You will not be facing this alone; you will be with me. And when we are done at the house, we will be visiting that old friend I mentioned, and perhaps we can stop for ice cream with your friends, and maybe with one in particular."

Realizing his guardian was right about the house, and avoiding his last comment, Harry reached for the powder, and stepped into the fireplace, saying the hated address. It may be his house, but he could not think that he was going home.

He arrived in the kitchen, and stood in place waiting for Albus, who was only a few seconds behind him. His guardian explained, "The meeting will be starting in just over an hour, so we have about 40 minutes before Order members start to arrive. Remus Lupin is the only member currently in residence, and I sent him on a short errand so we will not be interrupted. Take your time as you face this demon, Harry, and call me if you need assistance. I will not be far behind."

Albus stood aside allowing Harry to lead as they left the kitchen. As Harry entered the entryway, he spotted the curtains that hid the portrait of Sirius' mother, and stopped short. "Can't we do something about that portrait? I really don't want to have to deal with it anymore."

Albus slowly shook his head, "The things I have tried have proved ineffective. Magical portraits are made impervious to most other magic, as they are meant to last for centuries. The permanent sticking charm has been absorbed into the portrait, and cannot be undone. Our one saving grace is that the sticking charm has also caused her to be trapped in this particular portrait so she cannot roam to the other paintings in the house."

Harry glared at the curtains for a moment. "Then what about non-magical means. If the portrait can't be removed from the wall, why not just remove the entire wall." With a low snort, he added, "I would think a chainsaw would do the trick."

Albus looked surprised. "A Muggle remedy? I had not considered that option; and I dare say that no one in the Black family would have known what a chainsaw was, let alone been able to protect against one. I shall assign the task to Remus, who I believe would enjoy removing the old hag." He chuckled as he added, "Perhaps we should give the chainsaw to Arthur Weasley when we are done?"

"Only if you disable the motor," Harry responded, laughing as he pictured the damage Mr. Weasley could inflict, unintentionally of course, with such a device. Hearing Albus' agreement, he realized that he hadn't thought he would be able to laugh here again. Perhaps he could do this after all.

He left Albus studying the wall, and headed upstairs. He knew which room was Sirius', and he needed to face that before he lost his nerve. Nearly twenty minutes later, Albus found him sitting in the middle of the bed, holding a mirror. Without turning to his guardian, he said, "It's the match to the broken one I have. We could have stayed in touch; I could have known he was here. Why didn't I open it? And that time I used the fireplace to contact him, why didn't he ask why I hadn't used it instead? Or mention it at all?" Albus was sure that if Harry turned to face him, he would see tears trailing down his face.

Albus simply stood and listened to the questions for which there were no answers. Harry needed to get this out of his system. Dr. Tony called it 'venting', and he had suggested this trip so Harry could get 'closure'. Albus rather felt it was important for Harry to accept that Sirius was neither perfect nor completely blameless. Sirius, like everyone else, had made mistakes last year, some of which had contributed to his death. Putting his godfather on a pedestal would only cause Harry more grief down the road as it invariably crumbled. Albus sat next to Harry on the bed, and put his arm around Harry's shoulders, pulling him close.

Tapping the frame, he said, "I remember those mirrors. James and Sirius often had them in detention, I recall. We can try to fix the broken mirror, Harry, and then you can give one to a friend, although as your Headmaster I do not want to know to what use you put them." They sat together for a few more minutes, until a loud sound from downstairs drew their attention.

In the parlor, they found Kreacher, replacing many of the objects he had hidden the previous summer, mumbling under his breath about preserving the Black family heritage from unworthy blood traitors. Harry froze. He had forgotten all about Kreacher. He turned to his guardian, not knowing how to react. Without waiting for Harry's question, Albus said, "Order him to stop, Harry. Do it in a commanding voice, and he will be forced to listen."

Harry looked at the hated elf, and with effort kept his voice loud and even as he announced, "Kreacher, no more talking to yourself." Surprised by the voice, Kreacher dropped the necklace in his hands, and turned to face the intruders.

For just a moment, he glared at Harry, and then he said, "as the little monster wishes." But then something funny happened. Kreacher was clearly trying to speak under his breath, Harry could see his mouth opening and closing as the elf looked to the floor, but no sounds were coming out. Kreacher finally looked back to Harry. "So the dead traitor has really made you Kreacher's new Master. Kreacher despises his new Master, but Kreacher must obey, no matter how much Kreacher doesn't want to."

Albus then spoke, "Harry, Kreacher has already proven to be a security risk. May I recommend you send him to Hogwarts to work in the laundry, with instructions to not leave the premises without your express permission. And perhaps it would not hurt to forbid him to speak with any of the remaining Black relatives, excepting Nymphadora."

Harry did as Albus suggested, and with a snap of his fingers, Kreacher disappeared. Harry watched the elf leave, a bit confused by what had just happened. "Sir, why did he listen to me so quickly? He never did that for Sirius."

"Kreacher had been conditioned by his past owners to not respect Sirius, which made it easier for him to disobey," Albus explained. "And, unfortunately, Sirius' treatment of him did not help. Part of the house-elf enchantment is connected to the amount of authority the Master commands over the elf. Authority being entirely different from cruelty; something you have already figured out, thanks to our friend Dobby, but which perhaps your friend Miss Granger hasn't. You have shown Kreacher that you know how to command a house-elf. He will, perhaps not respect you, but at least obey you in a way he would not Sirius."

Harry absent-mindedly walked over to the display case and picked up the necklace, which was actually a locket, that Kreacher had dropped. He lost himself in thought, remembering the time he had gotten to spend with Sirius while they had been cleaning the house. He decided he might as well keep the locket, it was his now after all, sinced the elf had gone to such trouble to keep it; maybe it was worth something. Harry couldn't quite explain it, the thing was a bit ugly, with a snake on the front – _'just once couldn't it be a bunny' – _but it was still a connection to Sirius, and when he held it, Harry just felt it was worth keeping. He was brought back to the present when Albus announced that Remus was due back soon, and they needed to get Harry hidden.

Harry placed the locket on the top shelf, pulled his cloak out, and followed Albus into the kitchen. Albus had Harry take the Bahatan Secret covering all Order information, noting that all Order members make the pledge. He then cast a strong silencing charm on Harry and had him put his invisibility cloak on. Guiding Harry to a chair in the corner, he cast another charm to make it appear broken, and told Harry to sit, and to remain in the chair during the entire meeting. Under no circumstances was he to give himself away.

In what seemed like no time, those attending the day's meeting were present. Albus and Minerva, of course, along with Remus, Kingsley, Molly and Bill Weasley, _'and is that Fred or George?', _two people Harry didn't recognize, and of course Snape. The meeting was not as organized as Harry had expected. Although Albus was clearly the leader, the discussion was 'freestyle', the topic jumping at a rapid pace so that Harry had a hard time following everything. Remus would be reporting on a new werewolf, when Snape would criticize the report, and 'new face #1' would jump into the discussion with a new interpretation of a werewolf law. Kingsley would be talking about his placement with the Muggle Prime Minister when Bill would jump in with news Arthur had given him about Fudge's latest scheme. Harry suspected that Gred was as confused as he was, judging by the look on his face. Harry was able to work out that Ollivander's shop was empty and the man was missing. Knowing that Voldemort's wand wouldn't fight his, Harry found this troubling. It also appeared that Fortescue had been dragged away from his ice cream shop, which puzzled Harry, until he remember that the man had known way too much to just sell ice cream. Understandably, Albus didn't seem as concerned with this news.

It was only when the discussion turned to one Dolores Umbridge that Albus reined everyone in. It had seemed at first that Umbridge would get away with her behavior at Hogwarts, claiming that all she had done was under the authority of then-Minister Fudge. After all, she hadn't named herself the High Inquisitor. She had been welcomed back to her job in the Minister's office. But that was before Albus had heard of the cursed quill she had forced Harry to use. Unknown to Harry, Albus had let his Heads of House know that he had reason to believe that students were being mistreated in detentions with Umbridge, and had left it to them to investigate.

His Heads had done him proud. Between the four of them, they had documented no less than eighteen cases of the cursed quill being used, even one in Slytherin. There had also been two cases of near-whippings (after she had become Headmistress), four students who thought she might have given them Veritaserum, and four Gryffindors and one Ravenclaw swore they had witnessed Umbridge attempt to cast the Cruciatus Curse on an unnamed student.

Dolores Umbridge had lost her job in the Ministry, and would soon lose her standing in the community, as the Daily Prophet was running the story in tomorrow's addition. She had left her house two days ago, and hadn't been seen since. When found, she would be charged with Abuse of a Magical Child several times.

When the meeting was officially over, most everyone left the house or headed to the parlor for tea, leaving only Albus and Snape (and a still hidden Harry) in the kitchen. "Do you have any further information on Voldemort's new plans for Harry, Severus?"

"No, Headmaster. I only know what I told you already, that Potter is to be captured alive, and brought directly to Him. Anyone causing serious bodily harm will be punished. He was not amused with the spells used on him in the Alley, he made that _painfully_ clear. If Bellatrix didn't hate the boy before, she certainly does now. I can only presume that He wants the honor of killing Potter himself, and I can hardly blame Him."

"Now Severus, I know you do not mean that. It makes sense that he would want Harry unharmed. It would reflect rather poorly on him if one of his minions killed the child that he himself has so often failed to do. He has not hinted at all what he would do if Harry were captured?"

"You know as well as I that, unlike some I could mention, He has sufficient skill at Occlumency to the point that I have been unsuccessful in reading these particular thoughts. If you forced me to guess, I would think He would most likely torture him in hopes of making him beg for death." Harry noted the smirk that had crept across Snape's face as he no doubt imaged such a sight.

Albus didn't show his disappointment in the lack of information. "Thank you, Severus. If that is all, you may head back to the school."

But instead of taking his leave, the professor spoke again, "Actually, there is one other thing."

Albus briefly shifted his eyes to the broken chair in the corner, and then said, "Very well, please continue."

Snape looked uncomfortable as he began. "You may recall the _promise_ I made to Narcissa earlier this summer. I have attempted to contact Draco to discuss his plans, but he has been unwilling to see me thus far. I am hoping that once he is back at Hogwarts he will confide in me. Until I know what he has up his sleeve we cannot decide how best to protect you."

"Relax, Severus," Albus said. "I do not fear Draco Malfoy any more than I fear you. I will be fine, for neither of you are murderers. My concern is only for you and young Mister Malfoy's safety. When he returns for school, you must see to it that any plans he has made are delayed." Albus reached over and gave Snape a pat on his arm. "We will make it work in the end, Severus. We must, for the Order cannot afford to lose you, and I have no intention of sacrificing myself."

With nothing more than a brisk nod, Severus turned and left the room. Albus waited for the door to close, and then locked it so they would not be disturbed, and removed his charms on Harry. Harry stood and removed the cloak, looking Albus in the eye. "Draco took the dark mark, didn't he, Sir?"

Albus chose his words carefully. "He has been made to take his father's place."

Harry nodded his understanding. "And what was that part about protecting you, and murder? Exactly what is Draco supposed to do?"

"Do not concern yourself with Draco Malfoy. His task does not have anything to do with you, at least not directly," Albus said. "For now, it is enough that you know to stay away from him, and worry about yourself. Voldemort does indeed want you brought to him alive, and we can be sure it is not for a spot of tea.

Harry responded, "I'm not worried about me. Hell, they've been trying to get me since I was one. It's you I'm worried about. We've just started this family thing." Harry was starting to get worked up. "I can't lose you now. I don't think I can take that."

"Harry, calm down. Nothing is going to happen to our family." Albus had thought to shelter Harry by keeping Malfoy's task from him, but he quickly saw that doing so would lead to a replay of last year's fiasco. "When we get home, I will tell you the entire story of Mister Malfoy's task and Professor Snape's ill-advised promise to help. For now, come, we have an old friend to visit."

It turned out that Albus and Harry had a difficult time tracking down Horace Slughorn. They had searched the village in which he had been hiding, only to discover that his 'hosts' had returned from their trip prematurely, and he had moved on. They had then followed his trail to two other towns before finally finding him on the outskirts of a small Muggle village.

Before approaching the house, Albus spoke with Harry. "The thing you must understand about Horace Slughorn is that he is a 'collector' of sorts. Only, he collects contacts. If, for example, you are in need of prime Quidditch tickets, he could get you box seats for the Holyhead Harpies, or locker room passes for the Chudley Cannons. If you want to procure a questionable potion ingredient, he would put you in touch with the right seller. And I think we can agree that he would consider The Boy Who Lived to be a feather in his cap.

"I know you do not like to trade on your fame," he continued, "but in this one instance, I must ask you to do just that. When we get inside, I will start the conversation. All I ask is that you follow my lead, so to speak. Can I count on you, Harry?"

Harry eagerly agreed. "Of course. But how will we explain the fact that we are together? Won't he be suspicious?

"Leave that to me," replied the sly old man.

-000-

It had taken a bit of persuading on Albus' part, for Slughorn did not seem to buy the 'just happened to be in the area' story that Albus had spun, but eventually he and Harry were invited inside. After tea was served, the older, slightly overweight man said "Now, Albus, can you please tell me what you really want, and why, exactly, you are gallivanting around with the Chosen One. Shouldn't he be locked safely away somewhere?"

Harry had to remind himself that he had been all but asked to get on Slughorn's good side, and stopped the comment he wanted to make. Instead, he looked to Albus, letting him continue to take the lead.

"As you know, Horace, Severus Snape is a bit stricter in who he allows into his N.E.W.T. classes. Mister Potter here is a capable student, but he has unfortunately only achieved an Exceeds Expectations in Potions. He would very much like to take the N.E.W.T. I thought that, perhaps, you could write him a letter of recommendation."

Slughorn looked surprised. "Really now, Albus, you are the headmaster. Why do you not just order Severus to accept your student?"

Harry was amazed; Albus actually looked embarrassed as he replied. "Ah, yes, well I would rather that certain other parties not know of my involvement. It would not look proper for the Headmaster to be so concerned with an individual student's education. But if Harry were to acquire a glowing recommendation from Professor Snape's own Potions mentor, I do not see how he could possibly refuse."

Slughorn looked at Albus, as if debating his sincerity, then checked Harry over. Apparently liking what he had seen, he finally addressed Harry. "Exceeds Expectations, eh? I must say I'm surprised, I would have expected better from the son of Lily Evans."

Harry wasn't sure what surprised him more, Slughorn's comment, or Albus' foot nudging his own. "Really? Did you know my mum then, Sir? Nobody ever talks about her. Except to say that I have her eyes; everyone tells me that. Do you think I do?" Harry batted his eyes, much like he'd seen Lavender Brown do on occasion, but he realized the effect was lost behind his thick lenses. "Here, let me take my glasses off so you can see them better." And without waiting for a response, Harry removed his glasses and looked into Slughorn's eyes (as best he could, considering he couldn't actually see them anymore).

Slughorn stared at Harry's eyes before suddenly looking away. "Yes, I can see you do. Wonderful student, your mother was. One of my favorites. I had expected to hear great things about her. Instead, well … it was such a waste."

Seeing as the 'eyes' seemed to be doing the trick, Harry decided to leave his glasses off for the time being. He continued, "I wish I had known her. It's really not fair, you know. I've meet two, well three really, friends of my Dad's, and I've heard such wonderful stories about him. But I've never really met anyone who knew my mum well. You say she was a favorite? Please, can you tell me about her?" Although Harry genuinely wanted to hear the stories, he also knew he had a part to play. He was therefore doing his best imitation of Dudley kissing up to his father's fancy customers. A sudden memory of a falling pudding nearly made him laugh, so he bit the inside of his cheeks to hold it in, making his eyes water.

To Slughorn, it must have looked like tears, because he suddenly jumped up, wiping his own eyes, and announced, "Drinks are in order, I think. You won't deny the boy a dash of Firewhisky, would you Albus? Extenuating circumstances, and all that," he added, making a rolling motion with his hand as he spoke. Without waiting for an answer, he went to fetch glasses and a bottle.

While he was gone, Harry looked to Albus for advice, but not having his glasses on (in fact, they were now safely tucked in his robe pocket), he couldn't tell Albus' mood. He was forced to whisper, "Is it going the way you wanted, Professor?"

"You have been brilliant, Harry. Taking off your glasses was inspired. When Horace returns, let him lead the conversation, and try not to drink too much. I will signal you if I feel you should slow down."

Once back, Slughorn passed out large water glasses, and filled them almost to the rim with the whiskey. Everyone raised their glasses as Slughorn solemnly said, "To Lily Evans, one of my most brilliant students." Slughorn immediately took a large gulp from his glass. Seeing no reaction from the man, Harry bravely took a swallow from his own glass, and immediately discovered why they call if Firewhisky. It burned his throat on its way down, the heat rapidly spreading across his stomach. But just as quickly, it mellowed into the most comforting warmth, and it seemed to spread across his chest and arms, and right down to his toes. It was like being snuggled inside the softest, warmest blanket; he suddenly felt comfortable and content.

Albus had taken a much smaller sip, and was now holding his glass to the light. "Confederate Firewhisky, Horace?"

"Only the absolute best, Albus. I got this bottle from Gideon Crumb from the Weird Sisters as thanks for personally introducing him to Amelia Bones. Of course, that was last year." He was somber for a moment, before he raised his own glass to the light, admiring the amber liquid within. "Thank Merlin the distillery survived their Civil War. Did you know that they sample every single bottle, and if it isn't up to their standards, it doesn't leave the factory. I'm told that some days, nearly half the bottles get rejected."

"Now that's a job I could get into," Harry snorted after swallowing yet another swig. His glass was much emptier than his Headmaster's. "Why didn't we get brochures for that?"

Albus saw that he needed to get the conversation back on track. "Did you ever share a drink with Lily, Horace?"

That had its desired effect. Over the next couple of hours, Slughorn told Harry some wonderful stories about his mother: how she would tutor other students in potions; how she had added extra mint to a potion once, and made it twice as potent, cutting the required dosage in half; how she had carried on and on about that lout James Potter, though Slughorn always thought she carried on a bit too much, if you got his meaning. And as he drank and told his stories, he was penning his recommendation letter for Harry, believing that that was their purpose.

For his part, Harry had to try very hard to remember his real purpose. But he was feeling so nice and cozy (he was nearing the bottom of his second glass), and he really did love to hear these stories about his mother, even if Snape's name seemed to pop up a time or four.

Finally, Albus made his move. "You know Horace, I had meant to share that memory you gave me with Harry. Surely you have been reading the papers, you understand that it is Harry that must save us all. That memory is very important. Without it, we, that is to say Harry, cannot hope to defeat Tom Riddle, the man who murdered Lily Evans, right in front of her infant son." Albus waited a moment to let this new serious tone sink in.

He continued, forcing himself to ignore the pained look on Harry's face. "The trouble is, I'm afraid I've broken the vial trying to get the memory out. It is lost to us. Would you be so kind as to put another copy into this vial?" And seemingly out of no where, Albus produced another vial, and held it out to Slughorn. After only a bit more prodding, and a very heartfelt request from Harry, the inebriated Slughorn gave in. The vial glowed green for a second as the memory passed into it, telling Albus that this memory was pure. Having now secured the recollection, the trio shared a final drink before Albus stood and announced it was time to leave.

As Harry slurred his goodbye and stumbled toward the door, Albus turned back and with a casual wave of his wand, caused Slughorn to think that he had given them a memory of Riddle's last 'slug club' meeting, forgetting the last 10 minutes of the conversation. Albus returned them to their rooms at Hogwarts, and carefully put Harry to bed, tossing his whiskey soaked robe over a chair for the elves to handle. He looked at the clock, it was only nearing 10:00. The boy was already passed out; he should not have drank so much, especially on an empty stomach.

Harry woke in the morning with a headache, a queasy stomach, and a distinct hatred for morning sunlight. Unable to find his glasses, he made his way carefully to the breakfast nook, and sat down next to his much-too-cheerful guardian. One Hangover Helper (which alleviated, but could not completely take away the hangover - there are some things even magic can't do) and Albus' 'Accio glasses' later, and Harry had decided that he would survive.

Propping his head up with his hand, he eyed the eggs on his plate as he complained, "Why didn't you stop me from drinking so much? You said you would signal me if I should slow down."

Albus looked confused. "Harry, if my eyes were daggers, you would no longer have any limbs. As you had moved back, I could no longer reach your foot. I presumed that, in a show of adolescent rebellion, you simply wanted to drink."

Harry moaned, lifting his head so he could speak directly to his guardian. "You were giving me _looks_? I had my glasses off. If it weren't for the white blur that was your beard, I wouldn't have been able to tell the two of you apart. You didn't forget that I can't see without my glasses, did you?"

Albus was stunned, but quickly recovered. "Of course not, my boy. How could I forget a thing like that? I merely decided that this could be a good lesson for you." He paused, giving Harry a serious look. "And I trust you have learned your lesson?"

Finally picking up his fork, he replied, "Oh, yes Sir. I promise I will not let you take me drinking with a former Professor and accidentally get me drunk again."

Albus decided it was in his best interest to let the subject drop. "When you are done laughing, and have eaten and cleaned up, we have a memory to view."

They viewed the memory together, and discussed its implications. Albus suspected that Riddle, in becoming Voldemort, had made six Horcruxes, keeping the seventh part of his soul in himself. The diary had indeed been a Horcrux, and it had been destroyed. That left five. Albus had previously viewed countless memories he had obtained from dozens of beings, looking for clues. He described for Harry several memories that he felt held the most promising leads. Albus listed three items in particular that he suspected were Horcruxes: a ring once owned by Voldemort's wizard grandfather, a locket owned by Slytherin himself, and a cup that had been Helga Hufflepuff's. They discussed the items, and Harry agreed with Albus that they were likely numbers two, three, and four. Albus then shared his theory regarding Nagini, and after going over the pros and cons of such a move, decided she must be number five. That left one unaccounted for, which they presumed was something of Gryffindor's or Ravenclaw's.

Albus added, "I believe I have discovered where one of the Horcruxes may be hidden. I had intended to retrieve it earlier this summer, but events conspired against me. I plan to go shortly after school starts, and would like you to accompany me."

"Of course, Sir. We are in this together, now." Harry replied, for now they were truly in it together; keeping it in the family, so to speak.

They decided that it would be helpful if, at some future time, Harry viewed the actual memories. But for now, Albus had a staff meeting to attend, and Harry (unknown to his Headmaster) had found the last common room, and just needed to crack its master password.

When they met up again that evening, Albus filled Harry in on the situation with Malfoy the younger and Snape. Harry promised to try to keep his temper around the young Slytherin, who in addition to blaming Harry for his father's arrest, might harbor ideas about moving up in Voldemort's ranks. Harry was also worried about that Unbreakable Vow, but agreed to trust Albus to handle that situation, as long as Albus kept his promise to keep Harry informed.

August 31st arrived, and found Harry rather confused. On one hand, he was ready to be with his friends again. He did miss them terribly, having only seen them that one day in Diagon Alley. But at the same time, it was a bit anti-climatic for him. Unlike other years, he wasn't in a hurry to get back to the castle, for he was already there. And he didn't want to get away from his family – his family was here now. So starting school would definitely be different for him this year. He suspected that it was different for Albus, too.

While they ate breakfast, Albus reminded Harry that, once school resumed, they would have to give the appearance that they were no more than Professor and student. For a reason neither could name, this left them both a bit sad. Standing abruptly from the table, Albus decided that everything else could wait. He and Harry traveled back to the cottage, and spent the rest of the day together, only returning near bed time. Albus had even stayed for meals, forgoing eating with his staff in the Great Hall, which had left the rest of the school concerned about Albus, or so McGonagall had explained when she came to check on him after he had missed supper. All in all, it had been a great last day of summer.

****end chapter****

**Notes:** if you've forgotten what The Bahatan Secret was, I refer you back to "When there's a will there's a way". Basically, Harry can't talk about Order business to anyone who does not already know it without 'just cause'. And for the record, his friend's curiosity is not just cause.

About the locket, sorry, but he's not going to make the connection just yet. He may be able to figure things out on his own, but he's not flawless. Yes, it sounds similar to the one at #12, but he has no reason to suspect that a piece of Voldemort's soul just happened to be left lying around his house. Perhaps if he had seen the memory, but alas, they just didn't have time.


	15. Poor, pitiful Potter

Legal schpegal: If you recognize it, I don't own it, and I won't be making any money off it. Sad, but true.

.

.

**15. Poor, pitiful Potter**

Harry arrived at the barrier to platform 9 ¾ completely alone. Albus had Apparated him a few blocks away from the station, so as not to be noticed, and Harry had taken a Muggle cab the rest of the way, confident that no Death Eaters would be looking for him quite this early. He wasted no time crossing onto the platform, and quickly found himself surrounded by two arms. Luckily for the attacker, Harry didn't give in to his momentary panic. He recognized Remus Lupin a split second before he sent his curse, saving his ex-Professor from a bad case of 'slugs'.

"Harry, I've been so worried about you," Lupin exclaimed as he moved away from the boy to give him a once-over. "You were supposed to spend the last few weeks at Headquarters. After what happened in the Alley, when you didn't come, I started to worry. Albus wouldn't tell us where you were, only that you were healthy, and safer where you were. I had rather hoped we could spend some time talking."

"Relax, Moony, I'm fine," Harry replied, using the man's Marauder nickname, and he was pleased to see the man smile in return. "I was already somewhere safe, so it just made sense to stay there. And truthfully, my new guardian takes his job seriously, to the point of being a bit over-protective after I was hurt. He didn't want to leave me out of his sight. Really, I consider myself lucky I was allowed to bathe without him watching." Harry joined Remus in laughing, for he could see the humor in it now. Glancing around the empty platform, he added, "But we appear to have a lot of time to kill this morning, so let's find a place to sit, and we can have that talk."

They entered the train through the conductor's door, as the train itself was still locked, and that was the only door Lupin had a key to. They made their way down the hall and entered a compartment near the end. Lupin, Harry knew, would be staying with him until the train pulled out of the station, when he would join two other Order members in patrolling the train. For the next few hours, while the workers and then the students arrived and boarded the train, Harry and Remus – he insisted Harry call him by his first name – talked about life without Sirius, and shared memories of other train rides, both Harry's and Remus'. When Ron, Hermione, and Ginny finally entered the compartment, with the customary few minutes to spare, Remus bid them a safe journey and left to begin his rounds.

Ron and Hermione frantically put on their robes and hastily excused themselves for their Prefect's duties. Harry gleefully waved them off, noticing Hermione's smile as he practically slammed the door behind them. He turned back around, only to find Ginny mere inches behind him, her face tilted up to look at his. She was smiling as she put her arms around his neck, and said in a sultry voice, "You had something you wanted to finish?"

Not bothering to speak, Harry lowered his head and kissed her. They stayed together, ignoring the outside world, as friends came knocking on their door only to leave when they got no response. The train jerked as it began to move, tossing them onto the seat, but they never noticed. By the time they pulled apart, countryside could be seen through the window, indicating that London was long gone. Breathing deeply, Harry finally spoke. "I wanted to officially ask you to be my girlfriend. I didn't want to presume, but maybe now I don't need to anymore."

Ginny beamed, reaching out to finger Harry's hair. "Oh, Harry, that's so sweet. Officially, I accept. Now, can we get back to the kissing? Those two will only be gone for so long."

It wasn't until they heard Ron loudly telling Hermione he thought they were supposed to 'tell the kiddies what to do' that they pulled apart again. As they heard Hermione explain the difference between 'telling' and 'bossing', they checked their appearance; Ginny fixing her hair while Harry placed a book on his lap. After greetings were shared, the new arrivals settled into the empty seat across from Harry and Ginny. Ron didn't seem phased by the arrangement, while Hermione gave the two a knowing look.

The ride seemed to pass quickly, as the four friends caught up on the rest of their summer. Eventually, they all discussed what Ginny and Harry had heard during The Attack of The Wardrobe, as Ginny referred to it. Everyone agreed that Voldemort wanting Harry taken alive was only slightly better than Voldemort wanting Harry, and that Harry would have to be extra careful this year. Hermione suggested that one of the three of them should be with him at all times. Ginny was quick to agree, noting that since the others have classes with him, she would have to take the night shift.

This confused Ron, who clearly had not noticed how closely Ginny and Harry were sitting. "Don't be daft, Ginny. Harry and I share a dorm, so I'll be watching him at night." The other three shared a look before bursting into laughter. Ron looked at Hermione, who had that 'know it all' look on her face. He looked at his sister, who had just rested her head on Harry's shoulder. Finally he looked at his best friend, who had casually put his hand over Ginny's hand, which was now resting on said friend's thigh. He wondered … "Harry, why exactly were you and Ginny in that wardrobe in the first place?"

Before Harry could think of a good reply, that being one that wouldn't get him punched, Ginny spoke up. "Bravo, Ron. Finally managed to add one plus one, have you?"

Ron turned a bit red, whether from anger or embarrassment no one could tell. Looking between them he demanded, "Will one of you answer the question?"

Ginny once again did the talking, for which Harry was grateful. "We wanted a moment alone. To talk, Ron. It's not an easy thing to do with all Harry's guards around. But then Fred decided it would be funny if we were found in a compromising situation, so he locked us in. Happy?"

Ron yelled back, "No, Ginevra, I'm not happy. Do you have any idea how it looked for you two to be in a wardrobe together? It made it look like you were doing _things_."

Hermione had finally heard enough. "Cut it out, Ron. What does it matter what they were doing in there? You all but announced your desire for them to date on the ride home last year. You should be happy for them."

"I would have been," Ron coolly stated, "if they had told me. How long have you two been going at it?"

Harry had heard enough, and finally found his voice. "We haven't been _going at it_, Ron. I just asked her to be my girlfriend while you were doing rounds. We weren't hiding anything, we just hadn't gotten the chance to say anything yet."

"We aren't keeping secrets from you, Ron," Ginny added, "Can you say the same to us?"

Ron sheepishly looked back to Ginny. "I don't know what you mean."

"I'm sure you don't," Ginny shot back. "Tell us Ron, who were you writing to this summer? Anyone we know?"

Ron tried to deflect the topic. "Wait a minute. You did a lot of writing too. That was Harry you were writing to all summer, wasn't it?"

But Hermione cut in, "You've been writing to someone, Ron? You hypocrite! How dare you get mad at me for one letter from Victor when you've been hiding letters from me all summer?"

And they were off. Harry and Ginny decided they wanted no part of this latest argument, so they silently escaped the compartment, eventually finding Neville and Luna sitting with Dean and Seamus. They kept their visit brief, as Dean kept glancing at their clasped hands. They strolled up and down the train, stopping to visit with a few other people, mostly from the DA or Ginny's class, before finally heading back to their compartment. They found Hermione reading a thick book and Ron thumbing through a Quidditch magazine. They were sitting across from each other now, and were not speaking. With a sigh, Harry and Ginny sat down opposite each other, and drew the two into a polite conversation.

Near the end of the trip, after he had changed into his robes, Harry excused himself to answer nature's call. He was heading back when he was grabbed from behind and slammed into a wall. He reached for his wand, but had it knocked from his hand before he could use it. Looking up, he found the grinning face of Draco Malfoy peaking out from behind the point of a wand.

Harry quickly took in his surroundings. From the looks of it, he'd been forced into the old Professors' Car, a compartment that had at one time been set aside for traveling Professors. However, it hadn't been used for as long as anyone could remember. The car was much roomier than the standard cars, and had a table in front of the seats, which lined two of the walls. But the table was broken, the whole place was covered in dust, and there was a stain that looked eerily like blood covering one of the seats and part of the carpet. Rumor had it that this was where the Bloody Baron had gotten so bloody.

Malfoy took a step backwards to better see his prey. "Well, well. All this time, you really have just been lucky. _Perfect Potter_ disarmed in less than 10 seconds." Malfoy harshly laughed. "When the time comes, the Dark Lord will make short work of you."

"You would know all about the Dark Lord, wouldn't you, Malfoy?" he shot back.

"I know that he will defeat you, _poor pitiful Potter_. And when he takes over, mudbloods like your friend Granger will finally get what they deserve."

Remembering what he knew of Malfoy's task, and Voldemort's orders, he didn't think that he was in any immediate danger. His friends were sure to come looking for him; he just needed to stall. Falling back on the tactic that had worked at the Ministry, he rather stupidly said the first thing that came to his mind. "Like your Dad is finally getting what he deserves?"

"My Father is better than ten of you," Malfoy sputtered, his eyes flashing with hatred.

"Really? Cause it only took six of us to beat him and, what was it, eleven of his best chums?" Harry was hoping that Malfoy was too uptight to notice that he was searching the floor for his wand as he spoke.

It happened much quicker than Harry would have thought possible. Malfoy lowered his own wand and moved in, quickly kicking Harry in the abdomen with his knee. As Harry doubled over, Malfoy slammed his fist into the side of his head. The angle sent Harry head-first into the wall as he continued his fall to the floor, landing with a groan. _'guess I took that too far'_

Malfoy bent down close to Harry's face. "Pathetic, Potter. When your time comes, I hope the Dark Lord lets me watch. It's your fault I'm in this mess. You deserve everything you're going to get." Malfoy stood, and looked around at the dilapidated car.

Smirking , he added, "This is where you belong, Potter, shoved aside and forgotten. Stay out of my way this year." Malfoy bent down again and spit on Harry's cheek, before turning and leaving the compartment.

Once alone, Harry wiped his cheek as he pushed himself into a sitting position. His head hurt where it had been hit, but there was blood from a cut on the opposite side, where the pain was much worse. He must have hit something on his way down. He looked back, and saw a metal support rod with blood on it. Putting his hand to the cut, he felt that the bleeding wasn't very bad. He also realized that the train was slowing down, and he needed to get back to his friends. Using the nearby seat to steady himself, he stood and looked around for his wand. He didn't see it anywhere, and he didn't think he was in any shape to get on his hands and knees to look for it. Perhaps it was because he wasn't thinking clearly, but he just knew he needed his wand, so he held out his hand, and called "Accio wand". A few seconds later, the wand landed in his outstretched hand. Feeling much better now that his trusted friend was with him, he started to make his way to the compartment door, moving slowly as his head was still swimming.

As he moved toward the door, he noticed the end of a wand reaching in. He heard what sounded like a cartoon voice say "quasso igum." Not recognizing the spell, he tried to dodge, but his head wounds conspired against him, and he was only able to sway slightly to the left. The spell slammed into his shoulder, knocking him back and into the old table. The table instantly gave under him, and splintered. A long, jagged piece of wood pierced Harry through the small of his back and into the tender organs beneath. Still dizzy from his concussion and now in immense pain, Harry gave up the fight for consciousness as his body went into shock.

-000-

Harry opened his eyes slowly, not sure why they were closed. His brain went through his memories, trying to figure it out. Slowly, he remembered the embarrassment of being so easily beaten by Malfoy. _'at least no one saw' _He remembered standing, and being dizzy, and then somehow getting his wand. Then a strange voice, a spell, and lots of pain. Even without his glasses, he could see enough to confirm his fear – he was in the Hospital Wing on the _first day _of school.

He groaned, and reached for his glasses, but someone beat him to them. They were gently placed in his outstretched hand, and he slipped them on. Albus came into focus, sitting in the chair next to him.

"Good evening, Harry. You are looking much better, now that you are awake. You were rather pale when they brought you in. Can you tell me what you remember?"

Harry hesitated for a moment. He really didn't want to admit to being so easily disarmed by Malfoy, but he knew all to well what could happen when he was less than honest with his Headmaster. He told his story, starting from the time he left the lavatory, not missing a detail. If Albus was disappointed in Harry's performance against Malfoy, he didn't show it. Instead, he focused on the second attack, and both agreed that Harry's wound was probably unintentional, the result of an unfortunate fall and not the hex. Albus seemed particularly interested in the odd voice and the wording of the hex.

"But what was the hex, Sir?", Harry wanted to know.

"That is what I must now discover. Up to this point, we have been unable to detect any lingering spells. But now that you have told your tale, and relayed the incantation, I should have no trouble unearthing its purpose. I will see that a dinner tray is brought to you, and shall return soon with your answer." Albus reached over, and patted Harry's arm, then stood to leave the room. "Don't worry, Harry, we will have you straightened out in no time."

Albus left, and Harry noticed that the ward was very quiet. It was, after all, the first night back, so there would be very few patients. He heard the doors open again, and voices talking. He couldn't make out everything, but could tell that it was Madam Pomfrey talking, and that she was talking about him. And she must not have realized he was awake or he doubted she would be speaking so frankly. She was saying that he could have bled to death if he hadn't been found so quickly, and that the wooden shard had just missed the spinal cord. Harry paled, and realized that he much preferred when she kept the worst of the details to herself.

She finally stopped speaking, to Professor McGonagall it transpired, when she noticed that Harry was awake. She came to his bed and began to check him over as a house elf appeared with his dinner tray.

"You can eat in a moment, right now I need you to lie still." She finished her scan, then helped Harry sit up and handed him his tray. "As often as you are in here, I am beginning to suspect that you have taken a page from your godfather's book and developed a crush on me. Well, I am certainly flattered, but I must inform you, I am spoken for." She waited as Harry coughed; he had apparently had trouble swallowing. A smile crept across her face. "I will be back later with your care instructions. In the meantime, do not try to move unassisted. Wounds near the spine are tricky to heal with magic – we could inadvertently harm the spine. I've closed the wound as best I could, but it will be tender and too much movement could reopen it."

She went to her office, where Minerva was waiting, and they entered together. Harry settled back to enjoy broth and plain yogurt, trying to make sense of what the nurse had just insinuated. A shadow fell across his tray and he looked up, and into the worried eyes of his new girlfriend. He patted the bed, and she quickly sat down and gave him a fierce hug. Harry wanted nothing more than to kiss her, but felt that, given the two formidable women that could emerge from the office at any moment, it was best to settle for the hug. After convincing her that he would be fine (not an easy task, she was Molly Weasley's daughter, after all), he gave her a play-by-play of what had happened, glossing over the Malfoy incident as much as possible. Ginny, in turn, gave him the low-down on the feast, the rumors concerning his sudden disappearance, and Ron and Hermione's argument concerning whether or not soup was an acceptable main course.

Some time later, after Ginny had helped Harry set his tray aside, and had snuggled up next to him with her head on his shoulder, the sound of a throat clearing startled the couple. They both looked up to see their Headmaster watching them, smiling.

"I believe, Miss Weasley, that it is well past curfew. Not your fault, I am sure, as you no doubt could not see the clock on the table from your current position. Feel free to tell any professors or prefects you see on your way to your dormitory that you were consulting with me." Ginny, who was quite embarrassed at being caught in such a personal position by the Headmaster (of all people), took her cue and left.

As soon as the door closed, Harry said, "Before you say anything, Sir, I just want to point out that, aside from missing curfew, we weren't doing anything wrong. It was perfectly innocent."

"Guilty conscience, Harry? I was only going to comment that the two of you make a striking couple. Is there anything you want to tell me?" Albus' eyes were twinkling again.

"No, Sir," Harry answered reflexively. Then he quickly amended, "I mean, well, we are dating now. Ginny and I. But there isn't anything else you should know." Harry finished quietly, looking down and with a very nice blush.

"Not to worry, Harry. I trust both yourself and Miss Weasley to act prudently at all times. Anything less, and you risk the wrath of Molly Weasley." He paused for a moment to let Harry imagine that scenario. "And now, to business. The hex, Quasso Igum, is a rather obscure curse that was used by the Ministry in the early 18th century as punishment for minor crimes. It is actually dormant unless you are using a wand, which is why Madam Pomfrey could not detect any residual from the curse. It disrupts the connection a wizard has to his wand, causing the wizard's spells to become weak and unpredictable. Imagine if you were trying to use a wand that clearly did not suit. When the punishment was over, the curse was lifted. What makes this troubling is the fact that, had you not heard the incantation, it could have taken us months to figure out the curse since it is virtually undetectable unless you are actually casting a spell. And in that time, your grades would have no doubt suffered. I shudder to think of the consequences of you in a battle under such a curse."

Their meeting was interrupted by Madame Pomfrey stopping to check on Harry. Albus decided to cast the counter-curse while she waited, on the chance that there were any unexpected side effects. There being none, Pomfrey completed her ministrations and watched Harry take his potions. Then, with a wink to Harry, she left them to finish their conversation. Albus had Harry perform a few quick spells with his wand, and both were relieved when they worked as expected.

Albus started back toward his chair, but changed his mind and moved to Harry's bed instead, sitting on the edge of the mattress and taking Harry's hands in his own. He spoke quietly, "That's twice now, Harry. I would say that you are going to drive me to an early grave, but I suspect your teenage mind would disagree with my definition of 'early'." Albus saw Harry lower his eyes. "I do not blame you. We both agreed that Draco Malfoy was best left alone, but would not harm you for fear of his so-called Lord's reprisal. What concerns me is the very likely possibility that it was not Mr. Malfoy who cursed you. You say the voice sounded wrong to be his?"

Harry looked back up and nodded. "Maybe it was because of the ringing in my ears, but it sounded, well, more childish. And I think that if Malfoy was going to curse me, he would have done it to my face. He would have wanted me to know he had done it."

"I tend to agree," Albus replied. "I spoke very briefly with Miss Granger, who shared with me the idea that you should be accompanied whenever possible. As much as I hate to limit your freedom, in this case I am compelled to agree, with one caveat. If you must be out, and cannot have someone with you, please be sure to use your father's old cloak. But do not be seen using it." Ignoring Harry's snicker at his unintentional pun, he continued, "In fact, I would recommend that you keep the cloak with you at all times this year. I hope you understand and can agree."

"Yes, Sir," Harry replied. "When Hermione first brought it up, I didn't like it, but I guess I can see its value. I never thought I would be attacked on my way back from the loo. I mean, who thinks about sneak attacks when they need to, you know, go. If my friends agree to it, so do I. But can we try to not make it obvious? I really don't need the whole school thinking that I need a babysitter."

Albus chuckled. "I think that can be arranged. As it is, you are usually in the company of your friends anyway, so I doubt it will be noticeable. Especially since I assume you will suddenly be spending a great deal of time in the company of Miss Weasley." Albus watched as Harry yawned; it appeared the sleeping aid was taking effect. "Two more things, Harry, then you can sleep. As soon as my schedule permits, I will arrange a meeting with myself and Professor McGonagall to discuss how your new guardianship effects your schooling. Do try to stay out of trouble until then, for I will not know to discipline you as your Headmaster or as your Guardian. And lastly, with school back in session, I have had to change my office password. For others, I will continue my tradition of names of sweets. But you will have your own password, one that will not change, so you can always get to me when you have need. I only ask that you not give your password to anyone else. It should be something that is not overly easy to guess. Do you know what you would like to use?"

Harry thought about this for a moment. Something only he would use – easy enough for him to remember but not easy to guess. He slowly smiled, "I was going to say home, because that's how I used to think of Hogwarts. But I've got a better idea. How about 'family first'? Because you've made me a part of your family, and family always comes first – before student, or _boy-who-lived_, or any of that other nonsense."

Albus nodded, "A truly inspired password. And now, before you fall asleep sitting up, let me help you lie back down." And Albus did indeed help Harry lie down only moments before Harry dozed off. He couldn't resist himself, he gently tucked his boy in, and placed a light kiss on his forehead.

Harry's back wound was healing a bit slower than expected – moving unassisted caused immense pain – so he spent the entire next day in his bed in the infirmary. _'Great, I missed the first day of classes, and she keeps giving me looks'_ Finally, after three doses of a strange greenish potion that tasted like broccoli, he was finally able to move around pain free. His friends joined him after dinner; Hermione giving him a copy of her Charms notes while Ron talked endlessly about which girls had 'grown' over the summer. Ginny stayed a bit after the others left, so they could share a quiet good night. Albus made another appearance, shortly after curfew, but as there were now other patients, he kept his visit brief. As Harry settled in to the bed, he thought back on the many 'first school days' he had had. Thinking of his first year at Hogwarts, when he and Ron had gotten lost on the first day, and last year's disastrous first day - _'Umbridge' - _and of course all those years with Dudley and his gang, he had to admit that this was the most relaxing first day of school he'd ever had.

****end chapter****

**Notes:** New spell – Quasso Igum (from latin, Quasso - to break or shake apart violently and iugum - a pair/bond.) Nasty little spell that disrupts the connection a wizard shares with his wand, causing his spells to lose their power. It will effect the wizard regardless of the wand they use, but it would be more noticeable with their own wand.

I've noticed that with Jo, the name of the charm/curse isn't always the same as the incantation. For example, the name is the Cruciatus Curse, while the incantation is crucio. But quite honestly, it's too much work, and gets too complicated, for me to do the same. So, unless I can come up with a normal name (like in English instead of Latin), you will find my names and incantations match.


	16. Snape’s correspondence

Legalese: I don't own the characters of Harry Potter, Severus Snape, or anyone else mentioned in this chapter. I wish I owned a bottle of Firewhisky, but, nope, don't even own that.

.

.

**16. Snape's correspondence**

Harry woke early the next morning glad that he was being released to attend classes today. He dressed, then, noticing his school bag had been left on the table, he pulled out his Arithmancy book and started reading. Since this was an abridged class, he knew it was going to take extra effort, and he intended to be prepared. Madam Pomfrey finally appeared, and after examining him again, pronouncing him mostly whole. She told him not to over-stretch his back or abdominal muscles or to do any flying for a week, at which time he was to report back for another exam. He was also placed on a special diet for a week while his intestines finished healing (magic and complex organs not mixing well, as Moody's missing eye could attest), which specifically meant no candy or unauthorized snacks. Unless of course being back in her care was his goal, she added with a wink. Harry blushed as he swiftly made his escape. He made a beeline for the Great Hall, as he was hungry, and he still needed his schedule. At least he wouldn't have to run to the tower for any books, thanks to the new book bag Albus had given him. It held all of his books and school supplies (and a certain cloak), with a total weight no heavier than Hogwarts: A History, which was also safely tucked inside.

He arrived at the Great Hall behind his friends, and caught up with them as they were sitting down. After getting quick hugs from Hermione and Ginny, he sat down and waited for his plate to appear as the others dished up their meals. Their bacon looked tempting, but there was no way he would cheat on his diet – he shook himself as he thought of Pomfrey's parting wink. Sure, he could kinda see what Sirius might have found attractive, maybe, but he was sixteen, and she was, well, _not_.

Hermione, seeing Harry's special plate, started to quiz Harry on his health, but she was thankfully interrupted after only three questions by the sound of a chair falling over. Everyone looked to the head table, where Professor Snape was stalking toward the Headmaster, thrusting a paper at him. No one could make out what he was saying, but it was clear by the look on his face that he was not happy about something. Albus, on the other hand, seemed highly amused by whatever the paper contained, if the slight shaking of his body as he covered his mouth was any indication. Professor Snape stormed out of the room, leaving Harry hoping that he did not have Potions today.

Before long, McGonagall stopped at the table with Harry's schedule, a small pamphlet, and a Potions textbook.

"Why are you giving Harry a potions book, Professor?" Ron asked. "He didn't make the grade, same as me."

Minerva looked at Ron. "That may be, Mr. Weasley, but unlike you, Mr. Potter applied for Potions as a Head's Candidate." She turned her attention back to Harry. "I am pleased to inform you that you have been approved." Her smile as she said this was so brief that Harry was certain everyone but himself had missed it. "Please take a few moments to read the pamphlet before you attend your first class. Your supplies will be delivered to your dormitory later today. In the meantime, perhaps Miss Granger will share her notes from yesterday's class with you?" She looked to Hermione, and received a quick nod in response. "Very well, I will see you all this afternoon."

As she left the table, Hermione and Ron both turned to Harry. Ron beat Hermione by asking, "Why didn't you tell me about Ahead Candidate? I thought we were going to be Aurors together?"

Before Harry could answer, Hermione cut in; "It's not _ahead_, it's_ a Head's_, as in Head of House, Ron. And how did you know about that, Harry? When did you apply?"

Harry quickly scanned his schedule – _'good, no Snape today'_ – then looked between his friends (and at Ginny, who was trying hard not to laugh at the tight spot Harry was in). "First, Ron, I didn't tell you because I was told not to mention it to anyone. You know the how _Orderly_ my life is now. Besides, I think they don't want it to be common knowledge, because they don't want everyone applying. I imagine it could make the N.E.W.T. classes a bit too big if everyone got in that wanted in. And second," he said, turning to Hermione, "my guardian told me about it." It was only a little fib as Albus was a part of the discussion, but his friends couldn't know that Professor McGonagall was also involved. Harry grinned. "You know, having a real guardian is turning out to be kind of nice. Have I told you about the time the Skipper let me have Firewhisky?"

Harry was saved from having to tell the story by Ginny cutting in to point out that classes were about to start. As Ron left for Care of Magical Creatures, Harry asked him to let Hagrid know he was sorry he had to drop the class, but that he would visit soon. Unbeknown to Hagrid, Harry had in fact seen him several times during the last few weeks. He had even been playing with Fang when Hagrid wasn't around. The hound now came to Harry almost as good as he did Hagrid, though Harry suspected that might have to do with the jam doughnuts he often shared with Fang.

After consulting his schedule, Harry made his way to the Arithmancy class room, sitting in the front row of the empty room. Only one other student, Hannah Abbot, joined him, although she sat at another table. Professor Vector breezed into the room right on time. She seemed like a nice enough witch, Harry thought, as she spent the first few minutes talking about herself and her love of Arithmancy. Harry and Hannah each took a turn telling seven (it being the most magical number, of course) things about themselves that the others didn't know. Harry couldn't think of anything to say, so Hannah started. When she mentioned her shoe collection, Harry joined in with his own preference for shoes over sandals. It was an interesting discussion, and somehow – he wasn't sure how – he ended up admitting that he owned his own house, although the other two seemed confused that he couldn't tell where it was. This led to their first practical lesson – to calculate the magical value of their home address. Harry decided to use his _real home_ address, the one that his _new family_ lived at.

The class seemed to fly by, and Harry was actually surprised when the bell rang. He had been right about the heavy workload, especially since so much of it was independent study instead of class work. But he would have to give Hermione her due, this class was definitely worth taking.

The rest of the morning went quickly, with Charms followed by lunch. Harry hadn't had Defense Against the Dark Arts yet, but the hall was abuzz with news of the new teacher, Professor Fortescue. Recognizing the name, Harry looked up to the head table. Sure enough, there sat the man that had run the ice cream parlor in Diagon Alley_. 'I thought the Death Eaters got him?'_ The current story going around was that he was a retired Auror Trainer, and those who had already had his class seemed impressed. Harry was looking forward to his first class later in the week. After lunch Harry had double Transfiguration followed by study time, which he spent in the library copying Hermione's notes.

In what seemed like no time, Harry found himself back in the Great Hall eating another bland meal. He was playing with his mashed potatoes when Katie Bell stopped by to talk Quidditch. She confessed that Professor McGonagall had had to convince her to take the Captain's position by overcoming her concerns about her workload. Katie didn't leave until she had tricked Harry into agreeing to help her with tryouts.

Harry was purposely tuning out Ron's comments about staying on last year's team when he got his second 'surprise' of the night in the form of Madam Pomfrey. The nurse asked Harry to stop by the infirmary after eating, saying she had forgotten to give him some instructions. She suggested his friends not wait, as it could take a while, then gave Harry a sly smile before leaving. Now, Harry remembered her instructions quite clearly, so her request rather confused him. Nonetheless, once he'd finished his dinner he made his way to the Hospital Wing, only to find himself ushered into the matron's office. Having never been in the office before, Harry started to look around, but his eyes stopped when they landed on his guardian.

Albus smiled kindly as he spoke. "I can see by the look on your face that you have forgotten it is Tuesday. Now that you have been reminded, shall we proceed to your appointment?"

In fact, with the excitement of the past two days, Harry had completely forgotten about his appointment with Dr. Southwyck, or Dr. Tony, as he had asked Harry to call him. "I guess I had," Harry said, looking at his watch. "Are we leaving now, or should I change first?" They decided that Harry could go as he was, and set off using a passageway that lead from the infirmary to an old outhouse behind Eyes for You, Hogsmeade's apothecary. Harry had grinned the entire way, and at Albus' questioning look, Harry explained that Fred and George had told him that this was one of the passages to avoid, as they were certain the staff knew of its existence. Once clear of the outhouse, and safely out of sight, they Apparated straight into Dr. Tony's waiting room. A minute later Harry was called into the office for his appointment.

Near the end of his time, Dr. Tony stuck his head out the door, and invited Albus to join them. Once everyone was seated he explained, "I think Harry is ready to make an important breakthrough, Albus. I thought you might want to be here for it. Harry?"

"It's really nothing," Harry began, but stopped when he saw the look he was getting from the doctor. "Well, OK, it is something, I guess. It's just that, for almost as long as I've been coming here, I've been telling Dr. Tony about how I was treated when I was growing up, and he keeps saying that I need to acknowledge that I was mistreated. So, here goes." Harry glanced at his guardian before focusing on the wall. Taking a deep breath, he said, "I was ill-treated. There, I've acknowledged it. Happy, doctor?"

"Harry …," Dr. Tony injected, causing Harry to look him in the eyes for a moment before turning back to Albus, or at least his general vicinity.

"Right. 'I can't get better if I'm lying to myself', or so I've been told." He took another deep breath. "I wasn't just mistreated, it was more than that. It's just, I never thought of it as abuse. I mean, abuse is when kids are getting the crap beat out of them, or are chained in the attic, or ... er, sexual stuff." Harry was clearly uncomfortable with the conversation, and he was speaking slowly, choosing his words carefully. "What was happening to me wasn't like any of that, so it wasn't abuse, at least not in my mind." He looked to his doctor for guidance.

Dr. Tony had been watching his patient, but now he turned his attention to Albus. "Harry and I have been discussing the textbook definition of child abuse, and how many people don't think a bad situation reaches the level of abuse unless it is an extreme case, like those Harry mentioned. But any mistreatment of a child by a parent or guardian, including neglect, is abuse." He turned back to Harry. "So, want to give it another try?"

Harry nodded, and turned to face his guardian. "I was abused."

It was as if the proverbial floodgates had opened. "Not physically, at least not so much, but they would constantly tell me I was worthless, and they wished I had died with my parents, who they said were drunks and had died in a car crash. They would feed me very little at times, and lock me in my cupboard. Did you know I didn't get a real bedroom until I got my first Hogwarts letter? Until then I was kept in the cupboard under the stairs. And 'kept' is definitely the right word for it. Sometimes they would try to forget I was there and they would leave me in it for days. And Dudley, he was allowed to beat me up whenever he wanted, and he was never punished for it." Harry stopped to take a breath, but then didn't seem to have the energy to continue.

Dr. Tony sat back and let Albus take the lead, which he did by asking, "I have to ask, did you ever tell anyone?"

"Of course I told, when I was little. After all, once I was in school, it didn't take long to figure out that kids don't belong in the cupboard." Harry's voice took on a hard edge. "But no one ever believed me. They would take one look at Dudley, at how spoiled he was, and figure that there was no way that I was being treated that badly, especially after they talked to Aunt Petunia."

Albus pushed, "What about when you came to Hogwarts?"

Harry hesitated. "When I first got to Hogwarts, I didn't know anyone well enough to tell them something like that. And I desperately wanted to fit in and be liked, and talking about my home life wasn't going to help with that. Then, as time went on, it just got confusing. I mean, didn't someone have to know? My first letter was addressed to 'the cupboard under the stairs', but the second one referenced the smallest bedroom, so someone had to know where I was staying. And the summer after my first year, when they locked me in my room and put bars on my windows, Ron and the twins had to rescue me with that flying car. But I was still sent back the next summer. And through it all, nobody ever questioned why the Dursley's never wrote to me, or responded to the messages about me getting hurt, or wanted me home for Christmas. The clues were there if anybody looked." Harry's voice was getting louder as he got himself worked up. "For Pete's sake, Snape should have figured it out just from everything he saw during Occlumency lessons, and I use that term loosely. I mean really, the only instructions I got were to 'clear your mind', as if it explained it all. I bet he was really enjoying seeing the boy-who-lived treated worse than a Malfoy house-elf."

As Harry stopped his rant for another breath, Dr. Tony jumped in to get the conversation back on track. They spent the rest of their time discussing the elephant in the room – the fact that none of the adults took seriously the signs of trouble. And in the end, Albus felt blessed that Harry was willing and able to put this failing aside and continue on in their family relationship. "It doesn't matter anymore, I have a real family now," Harry had said. Love truly was his greatest power.

-000-

As they made their way back into the school, Albus asked Harry to accompany him to his office for the promised meeting with Minerva, among other things. As they passed through the front hall, several students overheard the Headmaster saying, "It is fortunate that I ran into you, Mr. Potter. Professor Snape has asked for a meeting to discuss your placement in his class, and I am sure he will be most pleased to settle this matter quickly." Harry was certain he saw a couple Gryffindors run toward the tower to spread this news.

Once they were comfortably seated in the office, and while they awaited Minerva's arrival, Albus explained that Harry's cover story for his therapy sessions would be that he had donated a few hours every other week to help Madam Pomfrey with inventory. Either Albus or Minerva (who only knew Harry had the appointments, but not the subject of said appointments) would meet him in Pomfrey's office to accompany him. Harry and Albus also wanted to continue to build the relationship they had begun over the summer, so they arranged to meet in Albus' rooms the first Saturday of every month for an early breakfast. Of course, Harry was welcome to stop by whenever he felt the need, but it was nice to know that they could get together without any particular reason.

One last tidbit was brought up by Harry. He wanted to know why he had received an old, marked up Potions text. Not that he minded second-hand, but the previous owner had made quite a few notations in the book, some of which seemed to contradict the text itself. Albus assured Harry that he was aware of the notations, and that they were in fact from a highly reliable source. Some might consider such notes cheating; but since he wasn't a student, strictly speaking, he couldn't actually cheat, so the point was moot. However, in the interest of appearances, Albus charmed the book (Harry still had his book bag with him) so only people who said a password could read the notes. If Albus thought 'I solemnly swear I am up to Potions' was a strange pass phrase, he kept it to himself. He felt Harry might find the book as a whole most helpful, although he should take care with any unknown spells he might stumble across. Harry suspected there was more to the book's story, he knew his guardian quite well after all, but he saved it for another time, as he could hear someone approaching the door.

Once Minerva was seated, they got right to business. Harry had taken the argument that Albus should only be involved in disciplinary matters if it was of the nature where a student's parents would normally be involved. After all, Ron's parents weren't notified every time he got a detention. Albus countered with the fact that the Headmaster was, as a normal course of business, informed of all detentions and any time a student lost 10 or more points at one time, or collectively in one class period. Harry paled, remembering the many times he had lost at least that many points in a single Potions class. He was suddenly more glad than ever he had gotten that "E", and was now a potions candidate instead of a potions student.

It was eventually agreed that Minerva, as Harry's Head of House, would be given the final say in all disciplinary matters. Albus stressed his desire for there to be very few such matters, which caused Harry to squirm in his seat, and mutter something about unstable dark lords, evil plots, and 'not my fault'. Fawkes, who had seated himself on the arm of Harry's chair at some point during the discussion, seemed to nod his head in agreement. Albus cast a charm which would reroute all reports concerning one Harry James Potter directly to Minerva's desk, so he wouldn't be tempted. Minerva would then bring such items to Albus' attention if she felt it was justified. By the time it was settled, Harry was getting a headache. Who knew just talking about getting in trouble could cause such trouble?

A house elf appeared with tea and biscuits, and the three relaxed as they had their refreshments. As they visited, Albus casually handed Harry a letter to read. Harry was momentarily confused as he saw that the letter was addressed to 'Severus', but he read it anyway:

_Severus,_

_My good boy, it does my heart good to know that you followed in my footsteps and are still teaching the noble art of Potion Making to the next generations. How you must love the students to have stayed for so long!_

_It has been brought to my attention that one student in particular, a Mr. Harry Potter, has not received the necessary grade of "O" to take your N.E.W.T. class. _

_Now really, Severus, do you have to be so mule-headed? The boy is clearly deserving. He has his mother's eyes, so it seems obvious to me that he must have her talent as well._

_I rarely ask for favors from my former students, but I must ask in this case. He is so shy and modest, I am sure he would never think to speak up for himself. Please do not be put off by a talent that must rival yours. And such manners. Why the boy is exactly like his mother!_

_And another thing, that boy can sure hold his whiskey. I dare say he could drink you under the table, and if memory serves, that is quite a feat. Or did you think I had forgotten the party after O.W.L.s?_

_Do your old mentor a favor, and allow the boy in your class, Severus. I'm sure he will add brightness to an otherwise dull classroom. _

_Affectionately yours,_

_Horace Slughorn_

_Order of Merlin, Third Class_

.

Harry passed the letter to Minerva, shaking with laughter as he did so. "So this is what he was so upset about at breakfast. You know, I do kind of remember Mister Slughorn writing this while we were there. Do you think Professor Snape would have been swayed by my stellar ability to drink firewhisky?"

"Now Harry," Albus began, "don't be impertinent. One might get the impression you are not as modest as Horace believes." He almost pulled it off, but the twinkling eyes gave him away.

Their banter was interrupted by Minerva's sputtering. "Albus, what is the meaning of this? 'the boy can hold his whiskey' The _boy_ is only sixteen. When has he even had firewhisky? What exactly have the two of you been up to?" She shifted her glare between the two. "Well?"

To the portraits watching, it was quite a sight. Both Albus and Harry turned red, and looked down. For a moment, it was hard to tell which was the school boy and which was the greatest wizard of his time. The 'boys' in question were saved from what was sure to be a grand telling off by the arrival of Professor Snape. For his part, Snape looked around the room trying to figure out what was happening. He spied the letter in Minerva's hand, and immediately started in.

"So, Minerva, you have seen the lengths Potter will go to in order to get what he wants. It wasn't enough that he applied for a Candidate's spot. Oh no. He had to go behind the backs of his teachers, sneaking off from his watchers, no doubt, and coerce an old man into writing a letter of reference. And what a bunch of gibberish it is, too. The letter reads like it was written while he was three sheets to the wind." Here, Snape paused to look around the room, and was a bit disappointed to see that while Minerva looked indignant, Albus looked as calm as ever. Potter appeared to be trying hard not to laugh.

He continued. "The boy is sixteen, Headmaster. He is underage. Obviously, this reference to his drinking is a clear indication that once again, Potter has deemed himself above the rules. Since the day he arrived, he has believed himself better than others, and here is proof of his blasé attitude toward criminal activities. Perhaps Black spent too much time with the boy after all."

Seeing that Albus was focused on Harry, who looked like he was about to explode, Minerva decided to cut in, "Now Severus, I agree that Harry is too young to drink, and if he has been doing so, it must stop immediately." She paused to give Harry her sternest look, and was relieved to see he was now looking at her instead of Snape. "But I am sure this letter is not the proof of Harry's criminal activity that you are making it out to be. Surely there is an innocent explanation, wouldn't you agree, Headmaster?"

Albus turned his attention away from Harry. "Of course there is. With my permission, Harry's new guardian escorted him to a meeting with Horace. It was supposed to be an informal meeting in an advisory capacity. I am afraid that his guardian may have gotten a tad carried away in allowing Harry to have what I am sure was meant to be only a sip or two of firewhisky." Albus refused to look at Minerva, as he knew that she knew the identity of said guardian.

Harry, too, was having trouble looking at his Head of House, and was instead looking at a very interesting tapestry. He also couldn't believe how innocent Albus made the whole episode sound, and felt it best to hide this fact from the others.

Albus continued, "Rest assured, Severus, I have already spoken to Harry, and he has promised me he will not be repeating his mistake."

Snape was seething. "So once again, Potter is excused from facing the consequences of his rule breaking."

Albus, who knew how upset Harry already was, tried to defuse the situation. "In this instance, there are no consequences because he is not to blame. I am fully aware of this situation, and Harry handled himself as best he could. There is nothing more to say, Severus." His tone left no room for argument.

Snape looked, in Harry's opinion, mad enough to dissect a flobberworm without using a knife. But apparently, he saw the futility in continuing on this path, for he changed tactics. "Regardless, his little side trip to attempt to curry favor has shown him to be as arrogant as ever. Simply applying for a Candidate's spot was not good enough. He couldn't even wait to see if he would be accepted, he had to take matters into his own hands. He has no discipline, and has no place in a Potion's classroom. I want him out."

Snape was looking at Harry as if he was a piece of dragon dung, and Harry was having none of it. It had been a very trying day, and his patience was wearing thin. He was about to respond when he felt Albus looking at him. He looked into Albus' eyes, and calmed instantly, deciding to leave the matter to Albus to handle. But apparently Minerva hadn't gotten the same message.

"He will stay in the class, just as your Slytherin's stay in my class, year after year, despite _their_ lack of discipline. The Candidate's spot was created for a reason, Severus, to allow students who desire to learn to do so, in spite of a teacher's reluctance to otherwise accept them. You must understand this, as you have never been shy about applying for it with your own House. If you insist in trying to remove Mr. Potter from Potions, I assure you that Misters Crabbe and Goyle will find themselves removed from Transfiguration, and I dare say that Miss Parkinson may well find herself out of Charms. I trust you understand?"

Snape's back stiffened. "Very well, Minerva, Headmaster," Snape said, nodding his head to each as he said their name, "Potter remains. Will that be all, Headmaster? I do have grading to do."

Severus had moved to leave, but Albus stopped him. "Actually, I have something else I wish to discuss with you, if you would be so kind as to remain. Minerva and Harry, you are excused, with my thanks for your time this evening." Harry stood and followed his Head out of the office. As he was closing the door, he heard Albus speaking with hardness in his normally pleasant voice.

"Now, tell me again the Occlumency technique you taught Harry. And while we are on the subject, just what memories did you see when …"

Harry closed the door with a smile on his face.

**** end chapter ****

**Notes: **I read about Arithmancy on the HP Lexicon, so I hope I'm at least close when I talk about the class. If I've got it wrong, then we will just have to blame the discrepancy on it being an abridged class.

About Snape not teaching DADA – Albus already has the memory from Slughorn, so he doesn't need to make room for him. He also isn't planning for his own death this year, so he doesn't need to 'position' Snape. And finally, he knows about the curse on the job, and he needs to keep Snape around, so it would be rather stupid to give him the DADA job. And speaking of DADA, in HBP, they only say Fortescue is missing, and it looked like he was drug off. I maintain he escaped. I always thought there was more to him than meets the eye, he knows way too much to just sell ice cream, and there has to be a reason Voldemort was interested in him.

OK, about that elephant: The instances I used are either stated or implied in canon. Negligence is a form of abuse, as is locking a child in a cage (or small cupboard, as the case may be). Where I come from, it normally has jail time attached, so I consider the canon Dursley's extremely lucky. But don't fear, the abuse is not a focus of this story, just background. Harry's ready to 'forgive and forget', but that conversation had to take place, and you see one reason why at the end of the chapter.


	17. Exorcising demons

Legal notice: The characters appearing in this story are not owned by this author.

=parseltongue being spoken=

.

.

**17. Exorcising demons**

Harry survived the first two weeks of September by sheer will, he was sure. He hadn't realized how relaxing his summer had been compared to previous ones. But this year adjusting to school life, or more accurately, dorm life, had proven stressful. His roommates all wanted to talk about the Ministry Melee, which in Harry's confused mind seemed both ancient history and an open wound. In either event, it was a topic he'd rather avoid.

In his opinion, that was slightly better than Ron's new treatment of him. Ron had taken his orders to not leave Harry alone to heart, and didn't want to let Harry out of his sight for any reason. This led to a heated argument, which ended with Harry exclaiming 'you don't have to be in the stall, Ron'. It was unfortunate that the whole common room had to hear that little outburst. Harry suspected that Ron's zeal was due more to his new relationship with Ginny than with concern for Harry's safety.

His N.E.W.T. classes were also proving to be taxing. Many of the Professors wanted everyone to learn to cast non-verbally, which was giving him trouble. At least he could take comfort in the knowledge that the rest of his classmates were doing no better. Harry recalled the Death Easter at the Ministry that was unable to curse Hermione 'full power' because he couldn't use his voice, and secretly believed that teaching non-verbal casting was not necessarily a good thing.

And now that he was back to living in a dorm with four other boys, he couldn't even 'wind down' by relaxing with a favorite book. After internally debating the issue, he had decided to leave his paperbacks in Albus' rooms. He didn't want one of his roommates to see them and get the wrong idea.

One thing seemed to be going in his favor – he was sleeping better. Albus hadn't been able to find a safe sleeping potion to block the dreams, but help had arrived from an unexpected place. It seemed that Dr. Tony had been concerned about the disturbing content of some of Harry's visions, and had made it his personal mission to stop them. And boy had he come though. The good doctor had prescribed a sleep aid called Eupherein SA, which was supposed to induce feelings of exhilaration and euphoria, mixed with a mild sleep aid. Harry privately called them his Happy Dream pills.

So far, the only thing to get through was an image of someone being cursed, with the Cruciatus Curse, Harry thought. The image was brief, with none of the physical pain that normally accompanied a vision. Dr. Tony hypothesized that when Voldemort was feeling especially strong emotions, they would most likely still get through, but so far that hadn't been put to the test. Albus had admitted he was surprised that a muggle pharmaceutical worked, given the magical nature of the connection. Harry didn't care about either, he was just glad he was sleeping well again.

On the second Saturday after school had started, Hedwig delivered a letter to Harry at breakfast. Curious, he took the letter, giving Hedwig a bit of his sausage. His eyes dropped to the end first, and when he found it to be from 'the Skipper', he excitedly read it.

_Tell your friends that you are to spend the day in the company of your guardian, handling an important Order matter. I will tell you nothing further, so you will not have to lie when they ask for details. Present yourself to your Head of House's office at 10:30 this morning. You know what to bring._

_The Skipper_

Harry showed the note to his friends, and they all spent the time before he had to leave guessing what the important matter might be. Harry secretly suspected this was the promised trip to look for a Horcrux; but his friends didn't know about any of that. Harry was starting to realize that he was trading in his old secrets for new ones, and it was starting to get confusing.

At 10:30, Harry found himself in his Head's office, where he proceeded to put on his invisibility cloak. He ended up following Minerva all the way to Hogsmeade, where he entered a back room of the Hog's Head. Albus was already waiting there, and indicated for Harry to have a seat at the table. As Harry sat, a bottle of Firewhisky and two tall water glasses appeared on the table, which Albus scowled at before vanishing.

Albus spoke first. "Before we begin our journey, we need to do a bit of … housecleaning, shall we call it? It would not do for Ms. Hopkirk to send you a warning for underage use of magic where we are going." Albus produced a small blue vial, which he handed to Harry. "You will need to drink this, all of it, and it is best if you do so while sitting, as it has been known to cause light-headedness."

Harry took the vial, noticing that it was warm to the touch. Without hesitating, he drank the potion in one gulp. It turned out it had been the potion, and not the vial, that was warm, almost to the point where it burned on the way down. Harry did indeed feel light-headed, and he also saw the entire room turn brilliant shades of yellow and green. After about 30 seconds, his mind cleared and the colors faded, leaving a tingling that was traveling his spine. As that too subsided, Harry looked to Albus with a question in his eyes.

"Try a quick spell, Harry. Something simple, that can be easily explained away."

Harry pulled his wand, pointed it in the air, and said "lumos". The tip of his wand lit, and with a nod from Albus, he added "nox."

"Well done. And now, I think we shall wait to be certain no warning finds its way here. It has been a good many years since I have had to brew my own potion, and the Tracager Potion is rather advanced."

Harry was surprised. "Professor Snape didn't brew it?"

A laughing Albus shook his head as he explained, "I thought that, all things considered, it would be best if he was not aware that you are untraceable. This is a rare gift, and one that I dare say could cause me a great deal of trouble. For that reason, I trust you understand this is not intended as an invitation to cast spells at will? I must ask that we keep this our little secret."

Harry braced himself and brought up something he needed to say. "About that, Sir. It seems that I have an awful lot of those lately. I feel strange not including my friends in things. Ever since we fought that troll together, it seems like they've been at my side. I never would have gotten to the Mirror in First Year, or found the Chamber of Secrets, or made it through the tournament without them. And I feel like I'm being disloyal to them."

Albus studied Harry for a moment. "I see your point. They do seem to find their way into your adventures, don't they? 'A friend in need is a thing to heed' I believe the saying goes. Family is important, Harry, but so is the support of your friends. I can never replace that, and would not put you in the position of choosing between them and myself.

Albus spent another moment in thought. "I suppose their knowledge of our little hunt is inevitable. You and your friends have certainly proven over the years that you will not stay on the sidelines, so to speak. And, loath as I am to admit it, there may come a time when you will have to proceed without me. Circumstances do tend to lead that way." Harry briefly thought of Albus' untimely trip to London in his First Year, his removal from the school in Second Year and again last year, and lastly Draco's task, and nodded his understanding.

Albus continued, "If I am ever made to be unavailable, you might need their help to complete our task." He nodded as if coming to a decision, and clapped his hands together and announced, "Very well, you have my permission to tell them about the hunt, and all that it entails. But, and this is most important, they must understand that the information can go no further. Voldemort cannot suspect that we know of the Horcruxes. Even the Order is unaware of the true extent of Voldemort's quest for immortality."

Looking at his watch, Albus stood. "Well, I believe we have given it enough time. It appears that the potion was brewed correctly. Now, a word of caution. Ignore everything but the task at hand. Concentration is key, for I am sure that Voldemort will have left a few surprises for us to find. You must also agree to follow my instructions to the letter. Not to sound melodramatic, but should things not go as planned, it truly can be the difference between life and death. You understand and agree?"

Not expecting trouble, for he was with the greatest wizard alive after all, Harry quickly agreed. Albus took his arm, and Apparated them away. When Harry felt himself reappear, the first thing he noticed was that they were outside an overgrown cottage, which had obviously not been lived in for many years. Casting his eyes around the area, he felt a sense of déjà vu. Albus caught his attention, and guided him to the front door. It opened easily, and they cautiously entered.

"Rather dusty, isn't it," Harry heard Albus ask. For himself, Harry thought that downright filthy was a better description, but nodded his head in agreement anyway. He followed Albus into what was a kitchen and dining area, but stayed about three steps behind. He was careful not to touch anything, not knowing where an attack might come from.

Albus asked Harry to stay in place, and began to move around the room. He moved slowly, and had an arm extended in front of him, much like how one feels their way around in the dark. Harry supposed it was hard to search properly as the window was covered in dirt, and let very little sunlight into the room.

"Perhaps we should light the candle, Professor," he suggested.

"Perhaps we should." Albus stepped to the kitchen table, and moved his wand to the lone candle sitting there. A solitary mouse stood near the candle, and it stilled to watch what was going to happen. Harry heard what sounded like two spells, and the candle flared to life. The flame flickered for a few seconds, and then the candle exploded, bathing the room in light and heat. It was fortunate that Harry was standing so close to Albus, for the shield that Albus had cast reflected the blast away from both of them.

Harry's first thought was that no damage had been done, for once the explosion was over, the room appeared to be no worse for wear. Even the candle seemed untouched, sitting back in its holder upon the table. But following Albus' pointed finger, Harry saw what remained of the mouse – an outline of dust, with small pieces of bone in it. Harry looked down at the floor, and felt his stomach churn as he noticed similar, albeit much larger, sections of dust on the floor.

"Ruger's Fire," he explained. "A single blast turns living flesh to dust. I believe we shall have to make due with the light we have."

Albus continued feeling his way around the room, and eventually ended up in front of the kitchen cabinets. As he moved his hand to the knob a strong, chilling wind blew into the room. To Harry the cold seemed to penetrate his skin; his blood felt as is it were turning to ice. He raised his hands, which were rapidly loosing feeling, and saw they were turning blue. Starting to panic, he looked to his guardian, only to see that Albus appeared frozen.

Harry used his wand to cast a couple warming charms, including a few normally used for cooking, but each lost its heat within seconds. Harry was running out of ideas, and the room was getting deathly cold. "Professor," he called, but there was no response. "Hey, Professor!" he yelled louder, "Professor … Albus … please…" But there was no response.

Getting desperate, Harry cast another warming charm, not at himself this time, but at the cabinet. It seemed to slow the cold, but didn't stop it. Out of sane ideas, Harry decided to try the insane. Thinking 'two wands are better than one', he reached forward with his right hand so that he was grasping both his and Albus' wands, and cast the warming charm one last time. Both wands glowed for a second, and then orange flames erupted from each wand. The force of the spells threw Harry's aim off; the spells merged into a single flame that bounced off the window and came back at Albus. The old man seemed to absorb the flames, and he shook his body as he regained control. Albus quickly waved his wand in the air as he cast a counter-charm, and the room returned to its normal temperature.

"Thank you, Harry. I did not think I was going to break the freezing charm in time. I don't know about you, but I think someone wants to stop us from looking inside that cabinet."

Albus motioned Harry closer, so he could see over Albus' shoulder. Harry looked into the now open cabinet, expecting to see one of Voldemort's Horcruxes – perhaps the locket or the ring. But the cabinet appeared empty.

Disappointed, he asked, "Are we too late, Professor? It looks empty."

"Looks can be deceiving, Harry. You need to see with more than just your eyes." Albus cast a strong revealing spell, which showed a dark shadow toward the back of the middle shelf. A few more passes with the wand, and a ring began to blink in and out of view. "We have to time this just right and grab the ring while it is visible." Albus started to reach for the ring, but stopped and pulled his hand back.

The ring stopped blinking into view and the shadow disappeared. "Harry, I want you to reach for the ring, but do not actually try to touch it. Just move slowly toward the spot where the ring lies."

Not questioning the order, Harry switched his wand to his left hand, and extended his right. When Harry's hand was inches away from where they knew the ring to be, Albus stopped him. "Very good. Now, close your eyes, and tell me what you feel."

Harry answered slowly, concentrating on only his hand. "It's cold, like my hand is in a bucket of ice. And I can feel emotions, but not like when I get them from Voldemort. It's like I'm remembering how I felt about this place. Angry, and something else, pride maybe? And lonely. And the longer I stand here, the stronger they feel. I almost feel overwhelmed." Shivering, Harry pulled his hand back and opened his eyes.

"What you are feeling is Voldemort's magical residue. All magic leaves traces. Tied to Voldemort as you are, you can no doubt find his magical residue much easier than you would find, say, Professor McGonagall's. With patience and practice, you may eventually learn to feel any magical residue."

Albus considered what Harry had described before continuing, "I believe what you felt was accurate. This place would have made a young Tom Riddle angry; to see proof that his magical family was not as mighty as he had always assumed. And what you called pride I think was actually a sense of superiority, for he clearly believed himself better than the Gaunts. And the loneliness is something that I suspect he has never acknowledged. This was, after all, his familial home, and he was denied the chance to be a part of it, whether he would have welcomed such a chance or not."

Feeling the lesson was complete, Albus moved back to the cabinet, and recast his spells. Deciding to take advantage of Harry's seeker skills, he asked Harry to grab the ring. Harry was of course successful, and he handed the ugly and rather heavy ring to Albus. Albus stood looking at the ring, rolling it in his hand.

"It's a nice ring, isn't it?" Albus said, not taking his eyes from the gaudy object. He grasped it with his fingers, and started to put the ring on his other hand.

Seeing what his guardian was about to do, Harry slapped Albus' hand away. "You're not going to put that on, are you? For the love of Merlin, it's got a piece of Voldemort's soul inside it. Don't you think it could be, oh, I don't know, cursed?"

Albus looked at Harry and blinked, seeming to come back to himself. "Forgive me, I don't know what I was thinking. I am growing more glad by the minute that I brought you along." Albus transfigured a discarded bowl into a fake hand, and slipped the ring on its finger. The hand started to darken and shrivel, like a log being consumed by fire, but without the flames.

Albus vanished the fake hand, and the ring fell back into his outstretched hand. He placed the ring into a pouch, and tied it to his belt. Taking another of the old bowls, he transfigured it into a replica of the ring, and placed it on the shelf, where it vanished from sight. He closed the cabinet, and motioned for Harry to follow him out of the cottage.

Stepping into the midday sun, Harry felt his whole being warming up. He took a deep breath, and looked around. There was a large house on the distant hill, which seemed to strike a cord. Moving his eyes, he spotted a graveyard sitting innocently below the house.

Not moving his eyes from the sight, he said (more to himself than to Albus) "That's where it happened. That's the graveyard."

Albus put his hand on Harry's arm to stop him; Harry had been moving toward the graveyard without realizing. "Yes, I suspected as much. Do you feel the need to see it again?"

Harry shook his head, "No, I've seen it enough in my dreams to last a life time. I just never thought I would be here again." He turned to look at Albus. "It happened, and I don't think I will ever forget it, but it's in the past. I have to leave it there. Otherwise, _he_ wins. Please, I just want to go home."

This time, Albus put his arm around Harry's shoulder, and Harry reached up to hold his hand. They left Little Hangleton behind with a soft pop, and reappeared in the room at the Hog's Head. Now that the Horcrux was in their possession, Albus wanted to get it back to the school as quickly as possible. Not wasting time, Harry covered himself with his cloak, and followed Albus up to the school. As they climbed the stairs to the second floor, Harry nudged Albus, and whispered 'girls' lavatory'. With a slight nod of his head to indicate he understood, Albus strode purposefully to said room.

Smiling at the students passing in the hall, Albus knocked on the door. Getting no response, he began to open the door. It was, predictably, a Gryffindor (Second Year, Harry recalled) that had the nerve to speak. "Excuse me, Headmaster, you do know that's for girls, don't you?"

"Why of course, otherwise I would not find it necessary to knock. Were one of you in need of the facilities?" Albus looked around the group of girls.

"No, thank you. We were just going, right?" the girl said, looking to her friends. They all mumbled their agreement, and quickly left. As they rounded the corner, they looked back to see their Headmaster entering the girls' lavatory as if it was nothing out of the ordinary.

Once inside, Albus locked the door to keep the curious out, and Harry removed his cloak. Luckily, Myrtle wasn't here today. He moved to stand in front of the sinks, and said, =open=. As expected, the sinks parted and the opening appeared. Albus bent forward and peered down the slope.

Harry said, "I thought the Chamber might be a good place to head. It's where the diary was destroyed. Sorry about the muck, but I don't know any other way down. Fawkes flew us out last time, but I can't remember where we came out, and it would be quite a drop anyway."

Albus finished his inspection, saying "Nothing a good charm can't handle, I assure you. Shall I go first?" At Harry's nod, Albus lowered himself into a sitting position, shouted "Geronimo", and disappeared into the darkness.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Harry scrambled to follow, holding his wand in front of him for light. At the bottom, he found Albus looking at the hole Ron had dug in the rubble left by Lockhart's rebounded spell. "This will not due. Foris." Where the hole had been, a doorway of solid stone appeared. With another flick of his wand, Albus lit several torches, and then motioned for Harry to go through. Harry took the lead, and soon they came to the inner entrance. =Open=, Harry hissed, and they watched as the metal snakes slithered into place.

They entered the Chamber together, and the torches lit before them. In front of the massive statue of Slytherin lay the remains of the basilisk. Apparently, magical creatures didn't decompose like other animals, because it looked just as it had when Harry had last seen it, more than three years ago. Sitting off to one side, next to a dark stain on the cement, was one of its fangs.

The silence was getting to Harry, so he spoke. "On our way back to your office, I remembered what destroyed the diary. It was the basilisk venom. I used that fang and stabbed the diary. Do you think there is any venom left in it?" When he was done speaking, Harry realized that he was rubbing his arm, just about where he had been bitten. _'Thanks, Fawkes'_

While he listened, Albus was moving around, surveying the area. He looked more closely at the snake. "I do not believe that I ever fully appreciated its size. This is perfectly preserved. I imagine that is Salazar's doing. He would not have wanted to waste anything that made its way into his sanctuary. Severus would be like a Third Year in Honeydukes if he could see this. Perhaps someday you would consent to escort him here."

Harry looked at his guardian, whose own eyes had never left the snake, but said nothing. It would be a rather cold day, in a rather hot place, before he _consented_ _to escort_ Snape anywhere. Watching Albus, who was now moving toward the statue, he suspected that the matter would come up again.

Albus searched the area a bit, and even Harry found himself looking around – he had been rather occupied the last time he was here. After about half an hour, they decided they had seen enough, and set to business. Albus brought over a pedestal from the far wall, and he placed the ring on it, being sure to not touch it with his hand. He carefully picked up the fang and checked to insure that there was in fact still venom inside. He motioned Harry behind him, and in one swift movement, stabbed the fang into the middle of the ring's stone. There was a loud hiss, and what looked like black steam arose from the stone, dissipating about a three feet in the air.

When it had stopped, Harry moved around Albus and looked down at the ring. He picked it up, and noticed that it felt lighter, if that made any sense. He handed the ring to Albus, who immediately declared it clean. Albus put the ring in his pocket, and invited Harry to his office for a light snack, as they had missed lunch. He held his hand in the air, and Fawkes appeared. "To my office, if you would be so kind, my friend. Hang on Harry." In a flash of light, they left the Chamber, and a 'dead' piece of Voldemort, behind.

**end chapter**

**Notes** (long because of the new spells): Harry's prescription, Eupherein SA, is a sleep aid that makes a person feel happy so when they fall asleep, they have good dreams. No worries, it's non-addictive. It's also totally made up, as it only took me 2 minutes to decide I didn't have the proper background to find a real drug that did what I wanted it to do. It should be noted that Dr. Tony is correct, some stuff can still get through, and the stronger Tom's emotions at the time, the more will get through. And of course, it only works for about 8 hours after he takes it, and since it will make him fall asleep, he can really only take it at bedtime.

Tracager (Trace ager) Potion – used to trick a person's body into thinking it is aging, causing the Ministry Trace dissolve. Once the Trace is gone, the potion quickly leaves the system, and the body 'reverts' to its normal age. Oddly enough, it is only against the law to make, sell, or purchase the potion. A rather large loophole makes it perfectly legal to actually take the potion.

Another spell -- Foris, the latin word for a door, opening, or entrance.

'A friend in need is a thing to heed' paraphrased from the poem, The Cremation of Sam McGee. It's a short story written as a poem, and you should read it some time. It also contains one of my Dad's favorite quotes: a promise made is a debt unpaid.


	18. Why Harry’s dates always end poorly

Legal: Back to the classic – if you recognize it, I don't own it.

.

.

**18. Why Harry's dates always end poorly**

Harry reappeared in the Great Hall in time for dinner. Afterward eating their fill, he and his friends returned to the common room, and took over the couch and chairs near the corner. Harry hadn't yet figured out how to explain about the Horcruxes, so for now he gave his friends a highly condensed version of the day, making light of the 'order business' while focusing on being in the Graveyard and the Chamber of Secrets. He made it sound like the whole trip was designed to help him face his demons. The girls didn't seem to completely buy it, but they didn't press him.

With an eye on his girlfriend, Harry tried to gloss over details about the Chamber visit, but Ron didn't seem to understand his reluctance and asked question after question. Finally, Harry felt that both he and Ginny had had enough. He stood – pulling Ginny with him – and together they practically ran through the portrait to escape Ron's insensitivity. Wanting to be hidden safely from brotherly eyes, Harry led her to his new 'secret room' (as Dobby had called it), the hidden room at the top of the middle tower. The room was round with four windows, one facing in each of the four directions. A design that had been built into the glass of each window created a sundial of sorts on the center of the floor. It worked, as a magical clock should, whether there was direct sunlight or not, so you could see the time 24 hours a day.

The room didn't have much else by way of decoration. On the walls were some faded documents, which Harry couldn't read, a frayed tapestry, and two paintings. One was of a cottage hidden in clearing in a woods, smoke billowing from the chimney, which vaguely reminded Harry of a muggle fairy tale. The other frame held a beautifully painted lounge chair on a sunlit patio, but no person in sight. As Harry had been here many times, and had neither seen nor heard a person, he had concluded that subject must have another frame somewhere else that he or she preferred to inhabit.

The furniture in the room was equally sparse. Opposite the door was a weathered writing desk, the finish cracking in places, with a matching wooden chair that looked decidedly uncomfortable. Harry had already checked, and the drawers of the desk had been emptied long ago. There were two cushy sofas in the room facing each other, the floral pattern faded but still visible. At the end of each was a small round table perfect for holding tea cups or writing utensils. There was little else in the room.

Harry motioned Ginny to one of the sofas in the room, settling next to her and pulling her close. They sat silently like that for some time. But, as happens with teenagers, holding turned into kissing, which led to touching. Harry's hand had made its way under Ginny's shirt, and was softly caressing her stomach. Ginny, not wanting to be left out, was running one hand along Harry's side while the other was buried in his hair. They quickly lost track of everything except each other, and it was lucky that Ginny happened to look down and notice the time or they never would have made it back to the Tower before curfew. As it was, they were slowed down by a need to straighten clothes, and in Harry's case, _calm down_ a bit.

-000-

In no time at all, October had arrived. One clear morning found Harry on his way to a private breakfast with Albus. Harry had wanted to spend time with his guardian after the previous night's stressful therapy session but didn't want to seem needy, so he had asked for the meeting under the pretense of discussing his classes. Over omelets that had been prepared to order, Albus confessed that he was receiving progress reports from Harry's teachers, and was quite pleased with what he was told. The little hints that Minerva had shown Harry over the summer had helped with both Transfiguration and Charms, and Harry was carrying high marks in both classes. Professor Fortescue considered Harry the top of his class (no surprise, that), and had begun suggesting supplemental reading for him. Even though Albus had talked Harry out of teaching the DA again this year, as his schedule was rather full already and they had an excellent teacher this year, he was still glad to see Harry concentrating on improving his defensive skills.

His performance in Potions was a pleasant surprise. Between Snape being all but forced to ignore him, and the helpful hints in his text book, Harry was brewing perfect potions every time. Even Hermione wasn't performing as well, much to her annoyance. His Arithmancy grade was also impressive. Harry wouldn't admit it to Albus, but a large part of his new-found drive for high grades was due to his desire to make Albus proud. He suspected his guardian knew as much. Harry, who had grown up with constant looks of loathing being thrown his way, now practically lived to see pride in the old man's eyes directed at him.

As they were discussing Harry's classes, an owl arrived with a letter for Harry. Curious, he opened the envelope to find a letter from Petunia Dursley.

_I have been notified by your primary school that there was a break-in last week. It appears that your records were stolen. I am told the files contained your transcripts, teacher's notes, and records from the school nurse. Just thought you should know. P Dursley_

Neither Harry nor Albus knew what to make of this. Albus decided to send an Order member to investigate, but didn't really expect to find anything. Deciding it did no good to worry about such a minor incident, they moved on to happier topics, which in this instance meant Ginny Weasley. Several embarrassing questions later, Harry decided he best excuse himself before he turned red permanently. _'Did he really think I would tell him why we were late returning from practice?'_

And that is how Harry found himself back in the Common Room, sitting in the chair by the fire, waiting for his friends to return from breakfast in the Great Hall. He relaxed as he watched the fire, and was reminded of his first year at Hogwarts. Like then, classes were going well, he was having a great time playing Quidditch, and the majority of the school hadn't turned against him. If only it could end like this. He fervently hoped to skip the whole Voldemort-versus-Harry showdown that was nearly an annual event.

Earlier in the week, Harry had finally explained to his friends about the Horcruxes and Malfoy's task, which no one believed he could actually succeed in. (Harry had not shared Snape's part in the event of Malfoy's failure; he had left that problem in Albus' capable hand.) Snape hadn't been able to get anything out of the little twerp, so Albus had asked Harry and his friends to see what they could discover. 'A mystery worthy of your investigative talents,' Albus had called it. But so far, the only thing they knew as that Malfoy missed a lot of Quidditch practices. It was frustrating.

As it was Wednesday, Harry, Ron and Hermione all had first period free. They usually stayed in the Common Room and studied, or headed for the library. Today, Harry had other plans. He knew they would assume that his meeting with Albus had been to discuss Malfoy, and he rather planned on allowing them to believe as much, which meant they would need someplace private to talk. So once his friends had returned from breakfast, Harry greeted them at the door and asked them to follow him. Strangely, the Room of Requirement wouldn't open, so they opted for Myrtle's bathroom. They entered cautiously, and once they were sure the room was ghost-free, Hermione put up an alarm on the door while Harry put up an Imperturbable Charm, showing off a bit at having mastered the advanced spell.

Ron started right in. "Am I the only one who thinks that whatever Malfoy is planning, he's planning it in the Room of Requirement?" He looked at his two friends.

The idea hadn't actually occurred to Harry, but he gave it some thought. "Definitely possible, I guess. He does have a free period now, and he knows about the room. Bloody Inquisitorial Squad."

"Language Harry," Hermione absently corrected, "and we shouldn't jump to conclusions."

"Not much of a jump, Hermione," Ron countered. "We know he's up to something. He's got a task to complete. And we know what that room is capable of. This could be bad. If he's in there, we've got to figure out what he's doing."

Harry silently agreed, if that was the case, but that was a very big "if". There was only circumstantial evidence, and he remembered where that had led them in the past. Hermione seemed to have dismissed the idea outright with a wave of her hand. She instead asked Harry, "Did Dumbledore have anything new to say when you reported to him this morning?"

Ron interrupted. "I've got it! Maybe we could make Polyjuice Potion again. Crabbe and Goyle are dense enough. One of us could be Malfoy, and we could pump them for information. You know, he could say he was 'testing them' to see if they would talk." Ron's eyes seemed to light up as he contemplated the possibilities.

Hermione glared at him. "Well, I didn't find the experience all that fun the first time around, and I'm not about to steal from Professor Snape again. Let's call that Plan B, shall we?"

"Oh come on, you made a real cute cat, Mione," Ron laughed.

Out of new information, Ron and Harry managed to get Hermione to spend the rest of their free period talking and laughing. As they left for classes, Harry reminded Ron that Quidditch practice was right after dinner tonight. Ron had managed to stay on as Keeper (partly due to McLaggen's rather confusing behavior), but he definitely needed the practice. Harry was pleased that Ginny was also still on the team, although as chaser this time.

-000-

As the weeks went by, they got nowhere in solving the mystery know as "the Ferret's Folly". Ron had come up with that clever name so they could talk around others without fear about being overheard. Ferret, of course for the bouncing ferret Malfoy had become Fourth Year, which Ron claimed was a patronus-worthy memory. Hermione reluctantly agreed to the name since it was unlikely that anyone else would guess its true meaning. Harry was thankful for his friends' help, but he worried they didn't take it as seriously as he did. He often had to remind himself that Albus wasn't in any real danger: he was older, more powerful, smarter, and all-around better than Malfoy. No way was _Draco Malfoy_ going to destroy his new family. Nope, wasn't going to happen. They just had to find out what ferret-boy was planning, somehow.

"Mister Potter," a voice spoke from behind him, "if it wouldn't be too much trouble, do you think you could possibly open your book and pay attention like the rest of your classmates? Umm?"

"Sorry Professor," _– 'think fast Potter' _– "I was just thinking about the counter curse from Chapter 5. I don't understand why we need to learn that one. Wouldn't a simple Confundus Charm work there?" '_Good save!'_

Professor Fortescue looked at Harry critically, and whether he believed that was the cause of Harry's inattention or not, decided the question was valid. After a 20 minute debate, the Professor conceded that a Confundus would, in fact, work well enough, but the Snickers Counter-Hex was a favorite of some of the N.E.W.T. judges, so perhaps the class should learn it anyway.

The rest of the class was spent learning the 80 Effect, a lovely little spell that made your opponent feel as if the room was spinning, and thus easily disarmed. Harry recognized it as the spell he had been hit with the day he and Ginny were attacked in Diagon Alley. Aurors would use the spell in public places with large crowds of Muggles, where a stunner might be questioned. The spell could be blocked with a simple Protego charm, but only if you saw it coming. Not an easy task considering its light shade of blue (aquamarine, actually). Harry mastered the spell on his first try, a feat he was secretly proud of. He spent the rest of the class helping others with the spell.

Potions class that day was also easy for Harry. His book gave him alternate instructions for the potion they were brewing, which he gladly followed. He was the first person to finish, and his potion appeared perfect. Even Hermione's looked a touch more purple than it was supposed to be. Harry suspected it wouldn't be long before she asked him how he was managing to do so well.

Snape glared at Harry when he handed in his potion, and checked the potion carefully. "Correct consistency, correct color, even correct smell. I don't know where this new found competency is coming from, but I will find out. If, as I suspect, you have been claiming a store bought potion as your own work, then Head's placement or not, you will be out of my class. Now leave."

Harry wisely kept his mouth shut and averted his eyes. Albus himself had given Harry the book, but for some reason Harry didn't want Snape to know about it. Whether Snape was disappointed that Harry had looked away, or that he hadn't risen to the taunt, Harry didn't know. But the emotion behind Snape's brisk "I meant now, Potter" was unmistakable, and Harry left the classroom post-haste. Tomorrow was a Hogsmeade day, and Harry wasn't going to give Snape any reason to give him a detention.

Saturday dawned early, as days always seem to do. It looked to be a perfect day. At least that's what Harry thought as he got ready. He smiled to himself; today was his first official date with Ginny. As in, he was spending the day with her. Just her. And they would do 'couple-y things'. He was nervous – excited, yes – but very nervous. Thank heavens Ginny had the same low opinion of Madam Puddifoot's as his, for he didn't think he could stomach that place again, no matter how special Ginny was to him. He just hoped she would enjoy what he did have planned.

After getting ready for the day, Harry joined Hermione sitting in the common room when first Ron, then Ginny, joined them. As Harry stood to greet Ginny, Ron asked to speak to him upstairs for a moment. Harry gave his girlfriend a quick good morning, and then followed Ron back to their dorm, feeling sure that he knew what was coming. He had been wondering if Ron would be upset that he was spending the day with Ginny. He settled on his bed, across from where Ron was sitting on his own, and waited for his friend to begin.

"Hey Harry, I was, er, just wondering if maybe, by chance, Hermione had mentioned to you what she's doing today? Yesterday she said something about working on her Ancient Runes project, and needing a book for that. Do you know if she's going to the bookstore in Hogsmeade?" Ron was looking down, and his face was a bit red.

Harry did his best to hide his surprise at the topic. "Well, Ron, she hasn't really said anything. I guess I presumed you were going together, like you did last year when I went with Cho."

Ron looked up at this and smiled. "Yeah, Cho. That reminds me, are you going to ditch my sister to meet some other girl today? Maybe have Luna waiting at the fountain in case Ginny starts crying too much? Though with Ginny, laughing too much would be more likely. How does she kiss you with a straight face anyway?"

"Very funny, Ron. Could we please stop laughing at my girlfriend – who is your sister you know – and get back to the topic, which I believe was Hermione and you, not Ginny and me." That stopped Ron's laughing.

"Sure. Er, I kinda thought that we would spend the day together too, but now I don't know. She makes it sound like she's staying here, and I guess I would feel rather stupid asking her to go with me now. I mean, what if she thinks I'm asking her as a date? I don't want her to think _that_. That would just be awkward."

'_Deny much, Ron?'_ "Yeah Ron, awkward." Harry took a good look at his friend, and decided to put him out of his misery. "How about if we go back down and I ask what her plans are? Unless you want to ask her," he added with a smirk.

"No, I don't think I should, so, yeah, why don't you ask her. Thanks mate." Ron gave Harry a hardy pat on the shoulder, then passed him to leave the room. Harry watched Ron walk away, shaking his head for a moment, then followed him down.

Ginny looked up as they came down. "Guy stuff all handled?"

Ron looked to Harry, who leaned toward the girls and loudly whispered, "Ron just needed my advice. He wanted to know why I like to wear boxers. I think he's thinking about switching." Harry looked back at Ron as if daring him to contradict him, and Ron swore he saw a twinkling in Harry's eyes, but surely that was just a trick of the lighting. "So Hermione, are you planning on staying here all day, or will you and Ron be going to the village?"

Hermione gave Ron a funny look, then said "I'll be in the library this morning, but I might head down for lunch."

Harry looked at Ginny, who just shrugged. "Well, Ginny and I are having a private lunch, but maybe we can all meet for a Butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks. Say 3:30?" He looked back to Ginny, who nodded. Their nonverbal conversation was missed by Ron, but Hermione noticed, causing her to smile.

"Sounds like a plan. I'll see you all later," Hermione said as she grabbed her bag and headed for the library. Harry took Ginny by the arm and waved goodbye to Ron as they left.

Harry and Ginny enjoyed their morning by stopping at several stores, skipping the ones that were unfortunately boarded up. When Harry noticed it was lunch time, he led Ginny to the Hog's Head, and held the door open for her. Ginny gave him a strange look, but went in nonetheless. Harry nodded to the bartender as he guided Ginny through a door to a private room. In the middle of the room was a table with settings for two, a candle, and a single red rose in an empty Firewhisky bottle. The room itself was rather plain and felt unused, but Ginny found the setting very romantic.

She let her surprise be known. "I've only been here that one time last year, and I never would have thought of this place as a dating hot spot. How did you think of it?" she wanted to know.

"Oh, well, my guardian, you know – the Skipper, he brought me here that day he took me to the graveyard. So I figured, no one would ever think of this place for a date, so no one will be able to find us to crash our date. Especially two someones who look remarkably alike."

Ginny started laughing. "Oh, right. That does sound like something Fred and George would do. So, what's for lunch?"

Harry went to the table and pulled out a chair for her. As he pushed her chair in, a lunch of soup and sandwiches appeared. There was also a wonderful looking mint pudding for dessert, and best of all, a vintage bottle of Veela Wine with two glasses. "Wow, I've heard Mum and Dad talk about Veela Wine. Fleur is insisting on serving it at the wedding. It's supposed to be some of the best, and really expensive." She shot him an appraising look. "So how exactly does an underage wizard get his hands on a bottle of this? I wouldn't think this is standard Hog's Head fare."

Harry couldn't explain that Uncle Abe had done it without his knowledge – '_leave it all to me, lad', indeed! _ – so he tried to brush off her question. "Well, you know. Boy-who-lived, and all that. Got to get some use out of it, I suppose." He poured them each a glass of the light pink wine, and raised his glass to hers in a silent toast.

They spent an enjoyable afternoon having their private lunch: eating, talking, and being otherwise occupied, when they finally decided they had best rejoin the outside world. Harry was starting to think that having family was a great thing, especially when said family had a private back room he could use no questions asked. As they left the bar Harry waved to the bartender, who nodded back without taking his eyes away from the pitcher he was filling.

They walked around the village for a bit in quiet companionship. Ginny, for her part, was working out a new mystery. How did Harry get the bartender to let him use the room? Her only other experience at the Hog's Head had left her with a rather poor opinion of both the establishment and the barman's attitude. And why didn't Harry have to pay? She supposed he could have pre-paid, but that would have meant that he had visited there before their date, and this was the first Hogsmeade weekend. She was sure he had a way to get to the village, but didn't think he would risk leaving the castle for such a trivial thing. And the way the bartender let them have alcohol reminded her of something. Didn't Harry mention that his guardian let him have firewhisky? She was starting to suspect she may have just met the elusive Skipper.

They meet up with Hermione and surprisingly enough Neville at the appointed time at the Three Broomsticks. Shortly after they found a booth Ron joined them, seeming a bit out of breath. Hermione was mentioning the book she had just purchased to help with her Ancient Runes project. "Honestly, you would think the school would own more than one copy of Runes for Rites if every sixth year was going to need it for their project."

Harry couldn't help but grin. "But Hermione, didn't you know that extra copies of all extra books can be found in the storage cupboards of each classroom?" He had to stifle his laugh at the incredulous look on her face. "I believe the exact quote is, 'any text that is required for a class that was not included on the official book list is provided by the Professor in the Research Cupboard of each classroom' end quote."

Hermione couldn't believe what she had just heard. "How do you know that? And what, exactly, are you quoting?"

Harry's grin grew. "I know it because it was in a book I read this summer. What was it called again?" Harry tilted his head, appearing deep in thought. "A history of something? No, that's not right. Oh yeah, I remember …. it was a little gem called Hogwarts: A History." And then Harry couldn't contain his laughter any more.

Hermione looked around the table to see all her friends joining in the laughter. "You mean to tell me you finally read Hogwarts: A History?"

Harry's response was cut off by Ron. "I can't decide if I'm concerned that Harry actually read Hogwart's What A History, or if I'm shocked that Hermione didn't know something. Real toss-up, that."

"Oh Ron, you make it sound like Harry never reads. And I don't know everything." She turned to her other best friend, "but Harry, are you sure you aren't just pulling my leg. I really don't remember reading about research cupboards."

Harry got his laughter under control. "Oh, well, come to think of it, I was reading the Professional Educators Edition. Maybe it's different."

Hermione gasped. "Where did you get the PEE version? That's supposed to be strictly controlled. You could get in trouble for that. You don't still have it, do you?" This last part was added with a gleam in her eye.

Harry was enjoying every minute of this, and held up his fingers as he counted off, "One, I found it in a library. Two, I don't think I'll be in any trouble, I was given permission to read any book in the library. Three, I do still have it. And to answer your unasked question, yes you can borrow it. Just don't let anything happen to it."

Hermione jumped up and gave Harry a quick hug, making Harry blush, Ginny laugh, and Ron look away. Harry suspected Christmas had just come early for Hermione. The moment was suddenly interrupted by a loud noise near the corner of the room. Katie Bell was leaving the rest room, or at least trying to. She was bumping into tables and people because she apparently wasn't watching were she was going. Harry looked closer, and noticed her eyes actually looked like they were wide open, as if she was frightened or just came in from the dark. Something clicked in the back of his mind, and he remembered Moody – '_Crouch, er, whoever'_ – telling him you could see it in the eyes. She had been cursed, he just knew it. Judging by her strange, uncoordinated behavior, he suspected she was fighting it, but she was losing the battle.

Jumping from his seat, he pulled his wand as he approached Katie. He could see her friend trying to stop her and talk to her, but Katie shoved her aside as she kept trying to walk to the door. Harry walked directly into her path, hoping to force her to stop. Katie, however, was undeterred, and after walking into Harry she tried to back up to walk around him. By now Ron and Ginny had joined Harry in trying to stop Katie, effectively boxing her in. Harry quickly looked around, and noticing that Madam Rosmerta was missing, sent Hermione to find a teacher.

Harry put his hands on Katie's arms, shaking her gently. "Katie, listen to me. You have to fight it. You have to shake it off." Katie didn't seem to hear him, and was still looking toward the door and trying to move around him. "I know it's hard, but you can fight this. Just say no, Katie. You don't have to do whatever you think you do."

Katie looked at him and her eyes seemed to focus on him for a fraction of a second, but then she turned her head, and tried to pull away from him again.

"Katie, please listen to me. You have to fight this," Harry desperately cried. He didn't know what she was supposed to do, but he knew it couldn't be anything good. He just hoped that if he couldn't get through to her, he could at least stall her until Hermione returned with help. Katie suddenly jerked backwards, causing Harry to lose his grip on her. She righted herself, pointing her wand upward at the same time. "Reducto!"

A light shot from Katie's wand, hitting the candelabra hanging above her. The candles instantly toppled, raining hot wax on everyone below. The candelabra shattered, sending pieces blasting upward and impacting with the ceiling, which in turn cracked. Chunks of plaster and shards of metal started falling. One of the larger pieces fell on Ginny's shoulder, causing her to groan and stumble backwards. The others quickly jumped out of the way, but Harry was still watching Katie. He had noticed two important things. First, she was no longer trying to get away. In fact, she was standing still. And second, she was holding a torn package in her left hand, something he had failed to notice earlier. She was bringing her hand up as if to hand Harry the item inside, a necklace it looked like, when the damaged ceiling collapsed. The remains of the candelabra and the plaster from the ceiling broke free and came down on the two of them in a cloud of dust. Harry tried to shield Katie, but it happened too quickly. A large piece of the fixture hit Katie's head and shoulder, knocking her to the ground. She was out cold, and blood was coming from a cut near her forehead.

As the dust settled, a scream came from nearby. Harry, who had also been knocked down by the falling debris, sat up and looked around. The necklace Katie had been holding must have fallen to the floor, and a bystander had picked it up. She was looking at the necklace in her hand, screaming hysterically, as her body began to rise and convulse. The screaming stopped abruptly as the women seemed to lose consciousness, her body still hanging in the air but going slack.

Harry felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to find Professor Sinistra behind him. Professor Flitwick was also there; he had his wand out and was bringing the dangling woman to the ground. He conjured a container for the necklace, and secured it in his coat pocket. Professor Sinistra had meanwhile commanded all the students present to get back to the castle, informing all to go straight to the hospital wing. They would sort out what happened while the wounded were being tended. Sinistra headed for the door, levitating the unconscious Katie in front of her while Flitwick seemed to be checking on the adults that were present. Harry tried to stand, but his leg, which he hadn't realized was even injured, didn't want to support him. Ron held him by the shoulder, supporting his weight as they made their way to the castle. Hermione helped another injured student, leaving Ginny and Neville to gather the group's bags and follow.

***end chapter***

**notes:** I suppose I should apologize for the 'PEE' joke, my kids watch Spongebob, and I guess it's rubbed off on me. (Author involuntarily shudders.)

Snickers Counter-Hex – I wasn't hungry, it's named after our dog Snickers.

**Can't wait for the next update to find out what happens next? Check out my profile page for hints and/or sneak peeks of upcoming chapters. It's in the 'update' section of the profile, so skip that if you don't want to know. I update it shortly after every new chapter I add.**


	19. Trick or Treat

Legal: here it is, another chapter full of stuff I don't own.

.

.

**19. Trick or Treat (unoriginal, but appropriate nonetheless)**

Harry groaned as he woke up. It turns out Madame Pomfrey had been right back in Second Year – she could fix a broken bone (in his leg this time) quick as a wink. So he had been mildly curious when, after doing so, she had handed him a goblet containing what looked suspiciously like a sleeping draught. Now, as he found himself waking in a mostly empty hospital wing, 'mildly curious' was an understatement.

"Awake, I see," he heard. Looking up, he saw the Matron standing above him, a slight smile on her face. She helped him sit up, fluffing the pillows behind his back. "Bringing down a ceiling just to land yourself back in my care? More like that Godfather of yours everyday! Honestly Mr. Potter, when are you going to accept no as my answer?" Harry blushed as he looked away from Madame Pomfrey, only to notice Albus and Professor Snape standing behind her.

Snape spoke first. "Indeed Potter. I for one was not the least bit surprised to discover you at the epicenter of the calamity. I don't suppose you would care to enlighten us as to why you felt it necessary to detain Miss Bell?"

Harry looked briefly to his guardian (a look that Severus didn't miss, though he didn't understand it), saw his slight nod, and answered in what he hoped was a respectful tone. "When Katie came out of the rest room, she was acting strange, walking into furniture and the like, and totally ignoring her friend. Then I saw her eyes. That's when I realized that she was under the Imperius Curse. I figured whatever she was supposed to do couldn't be good, so I moved to stop her. When I noticed that Madam Rosmerta wasn't in the room, I sent Hermione to find a Professor." Harry turned his face so he was speaking to Albus. "I tried to talk her out of it. When I'm under the curse, I tell myself to say no, so I kept telling her to say no. I figured even if I couldn't pull her out of the curse, I could at least stall her until someone" (Harry turned back to Professor Snape) "with proper authority could arrive. Sir."

Snape continued to look down to Harry. "So you just assumed you knew what was going on, and that you could handle the situation? It did not occur to you that you may have read the situation wrong? That there was some alternate reason for her behavior?"

With determination, and maybe just a bit of defiance, Harry asked, "Was I mistaken, Sir?"

Albus stepped forward, putting his hand on Snape's arm. "No Harry, I am sorry to say that you were correct. Someone did in fact place Miss Bell under the Imperius Curse. And did a rather shoddy job of it at that. She should have been able to function at a normal, and shall we say, unnoticeable level. Yet she acted in the opposite manner, drawing undue attention to herself. She is rather fortunate that you recognized her actions for what they were, for other patrons in the pub have admitted that they thought she was simply inebriated." Albus turned to face Snape. "Severus, I wonder if you would be so kind as to fetch me a fresh sleeping draught, perhaps one from your personal inventory?"

Snape recognized the dismissal for what it was, and with a quick accent, swept from the room, leaving Harry alone with his guardian. Albus took a seat next to Harry.

"Harry, let me first apologize. It was I who suggested that Madame Pomfrey give you the sleeping draught. I suspected it would be best to hear your story without the benefit of a live audience. And knowing that you have been staying up late rather often, which we will discuss at another time young man, I decided to kill two birds with one stone. Please forgive my presumptiveness." He paused for Harry's quick nod. "Second, and most important, allow me to say how very proud I am of you. You were able to spot a curse that the so-called fully trained wizards around you missed, and you acted accordingly. The life that was lost could have been your own, or even Miss Bell's."

Harry caught his breath. "So that women that picked up the necklace …"

He left his question hanging, but Albus understood. "That necklace contained a powerful curse, which was activated when it came into contact with human skin. The skilled professionals at St. Mungo's were unable to stop it. Please do not take it personal, Harry. I know how you can be, and this was in no way your fault. In fact, I understand from Mister Weasley that Miss Bell tried to hand the necklace to you. I for one consider it fortunate she did not succeed."

Harry nodded again to let Albus know he understood, knowing this was bound to come up at his next session with Dr. Tony. He decided a change in topic was due. "So, why exactly did you send my favorite Professor to get a sleeping draught? Have you been having trouble sleeping?"

Albus smiled at the joke, glad that Harry wasn't letting the unknown woman's death overly affect him. "It seemed a believable task, as he will presume it is for you. I may well keep it for myself. Confidentially, Professor Snape's personal stock is a wee bit more potent than the hospital version, and better tasting, too." He winked at Harry's smile. "Now, the coast is clear, if you by chance were wanting to make a quick get-away. When you receive the potion, kindly leave it on your bed side table for Dobby to collect. I believe you can still catch dinner if you are fast enough." Albus patted Harry on the knee, and then watched as Harry _very_ quickly left the hospital wing.

Harry joined his friends as they were finishing their own dinners. Not surprisingly, they stayed to talk while he ate. Harry related his discussion with Albus, and the others took turns telling what he had missed during his nap. They all agreed it was odd that Madam Rosmerta was missing for such a long period of time, but as Ron pointed out, sometimes, when nature calls, she has a lot to say.

The mood among the group was pretty upbeat, considering. That is, until Minerva arrived. "Mr. Potter, I wish I didn't have to bring this up on the heels of today's events, but with the first game approaching, it cannot wait. Miss Bell will be out for the foreseeable future, and I find my team one captain short. Will you fill in?"

Harry knew she had been disappointed when he had seemed less than enthusiastic during the summer, and he felt he couldn't let her down again. Taking the offered badge in his hand, he said "I would be honored, Professor. I'm sure I can find a replacement for Katie in plenty of time for the game. Do you know when she will be coming back?"

As Harry and the professor discussed Katie, possible replacements, and strategy, Ron quietly left the table. Harry gave him a questioning look as he saw his friend leaving, but Ron just shook his head. Hermione looked between the two boys, and decided she had best follow Ron. By the time Ginny and Harry were able to get away – '_that women really loves her Quidditch' _– they found Hermione and Ron in the corner of the common room.

Getting closer they were able to tell that Ron was very upset, though his back was to them. They heard him speaking, "…because he was flying when he wasn't supposed to. I work my butt off, and once again, he just gets something …"

"Hello, Harry. All done talking with Professor McGonagall?" Hermione loudly cut off Ron's comment. She didn't think he really meant what he was saying, and was hoping to avoid a fight.

Harry looked like he had in fact heard, and was going to say something to Ron, but Ginny placed her hand on the small of his back, rubbing circles there. He turned toward her, and let her speak. "Why yes, Hermione, Harry is all done. He was just coming up to ask Ron for help picking Katie's replacement. Isn't that really, really, nice of Harry, Ron?"

Ron, unfortunately, wasn't quite ready to play nice. "What, you can't just draw a name out of a hat and accidentally discover the next Mario Greato?"

Harry looked at Ginny, who seemed to also be at a loss. "Mario who?"

"See what I mean, he doesn't even know Mario Greato." Ron looked to ceiling, as if praying for help. "He is only considered by most to be the best Beater ever. Played for the Chudley Cannons from 1865 to 1892, when he was accidentally killed during practice. The wings of the snitch got caught up his nose, causing him to pass out. Then he fell out of the sky and went splat on the ground. They said it looked like a squished pumpkin, what with the bright orange uniform and all. Nobody knew what was happening until it was all over on account of their Seeker had dropped his lucky strip of bacon, and the rest of the team was helping him look for it. People nowadays refer to him as The Greato Pumpkin."

Had he just hear correctly, Harry wondered. "Wait a minute. The wings went up his nose? And lucky strip of bacon?"

Hermione also couldn't believe what she was hearing, but she directed her questions to Harry. "That's what you are questioning? A strip of bacon?"

"Leave it Hermione," Ginny cut in, "at least they aren't fighting. Besides, I want to hear more, I would have thought for sure Ron was the only person with a lucky strip of bacon."

"Shut it, Ginny. Or have you forgotten how you 'enhanced' your Young King Arthur doll when you were seven?"

"King Arthur doll?" Harry was curious, but didn't want to get sidetracked. "No, wait a minute. Look Ron, about what you were saying when we walked in. You know that I was just as surprised as everyone else when they put me on the team First Year, right? And I was unfairly thrown off the team last year, along with two of _your_ brothers, for defending _your_ mother, so I really don't think you should be holding that against me. I spent 4 ½ years on this team, well three and a half, when you subtract Fourth Year, and in that time I've worked as hard as anyone for that Cup. I know being Quidditch Captain was a dream of yours, but can't you understand why I was picked?"

Ron was starting to look a bit uncomfortable. "Yeah, sure. I just … I've been working really hard to be as good as possible. It would have been nice to have that acknowledged, you know?"

Ginny spoke up. "That's true, Harry. He was up in the air almost every day this summer."

Ron responded, "Well, Treelow said that practice was the most important thing, so that's what I did."

"Wait a minute, who's Treelow?" Harry wanted to know.

"Oh, you see, at the beginning of summer, I wrote to Charlie asking for his advice – he could have gone professional, you know – and he told me to write to Lewbert Treelow. He was the Hufflepuff Keeper when Charlie was at Hogwarts. Plays for the Quiberon Quafflepunchers now. Treelow gave me some great pointers and practice drills to run."

And like that, Harry's anger was forgotten. "That's great Ron. You think we could use some of what you learned at practice? With Katie gone, we need to come up with a new strategy. I do not want to lose to Slytherin my first game as Captain. I don't think McGonagall would forgive me."

As the boys retreated to their room so Ron could share his letters, the girls decided to sit on the couch and discuss said boys. In great detail. Starting with their overly simplistic emotions and sports obsessed personas (Hermione's input) and ending with their finely toned muscles (a topic that Ginny brought up repeatedly). Hermione found herself unable to sleep that night, the great mystery known as Ronald Weasley weighing heavy on her mind.

In the remaining weeks leading up to Halloween, Harry found that he was so busy he looked forward to his time with Dr. Tony because he got to just sit on a very cushy chair and talk. Not only was he buried in normal homework, but he also had an Arithmancy project due by November 17th (explain the significance of your birth date in relation to how many children you will have), a Quidditch team to coach, and the previously promised apparition lessons. And as Harry had expected, with all the side-along apparition he had already done, he picked it up after only two hours. Now he was working on making his travel as silent as Albus. "Quiet as a pin, quick as a wink," Albus encouraged. Apparently, the man had obscure words of wisdom for anything.

If there was one thing that Harry had learned well in the magical world, it was that Halloween was never just a normal day. Wondering what this year had in store for him – '_not another troll!' – _Harry and his friends made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast. They sat together and started eating, Harry laughing with Ron and barely noticing as Hermione paid for her Daily Prophet. It was her loud gasp, and the slamming down of the paper that clued Harry in to the trouble. He looked at Hermione with a question in his eyes, but she quickly looked away. Scanning around the hall, Harry noticed that once again, people were looking at him and whispering.

Harry's friends had also noticed, and everyone looked at Hermione for an explanation, but she was resolutely looking at the folded paper. Ron quietly said, "Best tell him what it is this time, Mione. Bad news is always best from a friend."

Hermione stood rather abruptly, grabbed her bag, and briskly told the others to follow. They jumped from the table without taking another bite, hurrying after Hermione to the common room. Once everyone was seated, Harry took the paper from her and unfolded it, spreading it flat on his lap. He looked down to see a picture of himself, taken when he was 7years old. Seeing the picture, he closed his eyes as he remembered when it had been taken. It was the week of school, and his teacher had lined the students up on the playground for a group photo. But a split second before the camera had clicked Dudley had elbowed Harry hard in the stomach, leaving him slightly bent over and about a half of a step away from the rest of the group. Present-time Harry opened his eyes and examined the picture, touching it with his fingers absentmindedly, as if trying to touch the past.

The picture had been cropped and enlarged so he was centered in the frame, making it easy to see him. His oversized shirt was gapping open at the neckline, and if one looked close enough, one could see how overly thin he was. The short sleeves did nothing to hide the cast on his left arm. Being a muggle photo, nothing moved, for which Harry was grateful. Otherwise, it would have shown Piers Polkiss shoving Harry from behind, causing him to fall face first into the blacktop, not two seconds after the picture had been taken. Gazing at the sorrowful look on his own face, Harry wondered, not for the first time, how the adults around him could have seen things like this picture and not questioned how he was treated. Glancing at the girl in front of him, he could tell by the look in her eyes that Hermione wondered the same thing.

Turning his attention back to the paper, he read the caption under the picture. It gave his age, mentioned it was taken at a school, and explained that the thing on his arm was to protect his bones, which Muggles are unable to mend once broken. He snorted at the inaccuracy of that statement, wondering how many witches and wizards would now think he'd run around with broken bones until he'd come to Hogwarts.

Then his eyes fell to the story.

**Potter is Boy-Who-Was-Abused**  
_by Ann T. Jemima_

Harry Potter, the Chosen One himself, spent his years before Hogwarts being abused and neglected. Potter, 16, was placed with his mother's older sister one day after his parents', the heroic James and Lily Potter, deaths on October 31, 1981. The Aunt and her husband [whose names we are forbidden to print] were thought to be ideal guardians as they have a son the same age. But apparently looks are deceiving.

Interviews with childhood neighbors reveal that, instead of using the standard muggle cover story for Hogwarts, his guardians told people that Potter attends St. Brutus's Secure Center for Incurably Criminal Boys. Several commented on the boy [Potter] being a delinquent, though when pressed for examples of such behavior, none could be given. In fact, these opinions seem to be based entirely on the comments made by his guardians, and on the fact that he always dressed in stained clothes that were clearly second-hand, and often did not even fit him. This despite the fact that the family seems to be moderately well off.

Records from Potter's primary school show a bleak story. The school nurse repeatedly reported that he appeared too thin and small for his age. When Potter failed a simple vision screening in his first year, it took three notices to his guardians before they finally got him glasses. Throughout his years at the school, various teachers commented on the apparent lack of interest in his education that his guardians displayed. Notes were seldom responded to, and requests for meetings were always turned down. During these same years, Potter's grades went from near the top of his class to barely average.

One teacher noted that Potter all but admitted to being mistreated by his guardians. She requested an investigation, but it was dropped for unknown reasons. Shortly thereafter, the teacher quit her post and moved away. We were unable to reach her for comment.

In spite of this, the Department of Magical Minority Welfare claims to have never received any complaints regarding Potter or his guardians. Manager Eldenworth, spokeswizard for the Department, refused to confirm whether or not any at-home visits were conducted during Potter's pre-Hogwarts' years. Eldenworth did confirm that Potter was removed from the Muggles' guardianship this past summer, and remanded to the care of a magical guardian. Record of the reason for his removal and the identity of his new guardian have been sealed by none other than Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot Albus Dumbledore. Suspiciously, the names and addresses of Potter's previous guardians have mysteriously disappeared from the _Daily Prophet_'s office, and staff members can no longer remember the location.

In addition to being the sole heir of the Potter family fortune, Harry Potter is sole heir to his godfather, Sirius Black. Prior to Black's death this past June (see recap of the Ministry Melee, page 4), he was the last male Black and as such held that family's entire fortune. Estimates of Potter's combined worth place him anywhere from third to twelfth on the list of most wealthy European Wizards and Witches. This reporter feels that, given the fact that whoever controls Potter controls the combined Potter/Black fortune, Dumbledore should be compelled to unseal the records. We must be assured that Potter will not be mistreated or taken advantage of by this new guardian as he appears to have been by his last. And if he was truly abused, the guilty parties must pay. It is the least we as a community can do for the unfortunate boy.

.

Harry tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. That troll was looking better and better. He was glad he hadn't eaten much before leaving the Great Hall; his stomach was rolling so badly he feared he might get sick. His friends were strangely quiet as the paper was passed around and read. Harry wasn't sure why they weren't asking him about the article, but he appreciated the reprieve. The girls had moved to sit on either side of him, holding his hands as if to give him strength, while Ron appeared to be guarding the couch. It was peaceful, but Harry knew it couldn't last, and the warning bell rang all too soon, signaling the need to rush to class. Knowing he couldn't hide the day away, he chose to stand tall as he followed his friends to his first class.

Unfortunately, by the end of his morning classes, he wasn't quite so 'tall'. The classes themselves weren't too bad, as students aren't allowed to talk, although Harry was certain he had seen more notes being passed than usual. But there had been a lot of talking in the hallways, and even pointing and laughing. And now he had lunch to look forward to.

Harry, Ron and Hermione entered the Great Hall and warily made their way to where Ginny was sitting. Harry noticed she had her wand in hand – '_she's looks ready to hex someone'_ – and wasn't really eating. As Harry took the seat next to her, she smiled and patted his leg to give her support. Harry tried to block out the people around him as he hesitantly reached for a sandwich. Someone yelled out 'you're looking too thin, better take two'. This, of course, was followed by several other rude comments and rounds of laughter. Harry was sad to note that the laughter wasn't centered around the Slytherin table. It quieted just as he felt a presence behind him. He turned to see his Head of House standing directly behind him, holding a note in her hand. "Mister Potter," she said, extending the note toward him. As he reached for it, he looked up to her, and Harry felt as if they shared a moment of understanding. He recalled Albus sharing with him that Minerva had been particularly vocal against his placement with the Dursleys. Letting go of the parchment, she bowed her head slightly and turned away. As she walked back to the head table, she loudly reminding the students that lunch was about eating, not gossiping.

As Harry read what turned out to be a 'polite' summons to Albus' office after lunch, the people around him could no longer contain themselves. Seamus wanted to know what criminally insane meant, Dean asked who had broken his arm, and Lavender (or maybe Parvati) asked why he hadn't just used his own money to buy nice clothes. And those were just the questions he was able to identify. It was the not so quietly whispered 'bet he deserved every bit of what he got' from somewhere at the Ravenclaw table that was his proverbial last straw. Harry slammed down the goblet he had been holding, grabbed his bag, and stormed out of the hall. Crossing out of the hall, he gave the door behind him a mighty shove, not knowing that the candles in the room behind him flickered and lightening shot across the ceiling sky as he did so. He made it up one flight of stairs when the need to do _something_ was too great, and he stopped and punched his fist into the stone wall.

He pounded the wall two more times before another hand grasped his, stopping it from attacking again. Turning, he saw Albus holding onto him, an unreadable look on his face. He guided Harry to his office in silence, placed him in a cushy chair by the fire, and put a cup of tea in his uninjured hand. Pulling another chair close to the boy's, he took the injured hand into both of his and asked, "why did you do this?" Harry tried to pull his hand away, but the old man was rather stronger than one would think, so he didn't succeed. "Look at me Harry. Why did you hurt yourself like this? I thought we were past that."

Harry's eyes shot to his guardian's face, and he saw the regret and worry in eyes that normally twinkled. "It's not like that – we _are_ past that – I didn't do this for that." It all came out in a rush, and he wasn't sure it had made sense, so he tried again. "I wasn't trying to hurt myself. I was just so frustrated. I mean, I told you about it, and Dr. Tony and I have talked of course, but I didn't want everyone to know. It's so embarrassing. And it pisses me off. They had no right."

Harry was headed to full-blown anger now, and Albus decided to let him rant. As he cast cleaning charms on the bleeding hand and conjured a bandage, he asked, "who had no right?"

"Nobody. Everybody. My so called friends ... the ones who seem to live to turn their backs on me. They're always looking for something bad to say or think about me. The Daily Prophet, digging into my life like I was some sort of ... well, I don't know what. I mean, they've never looked into Fudge's childhood, have they? I don't remember seeing any in-depth articles about Lucius Malfoy going through puberty. Or whether or not Dolores Umbridge has any troll blood in her family. Or that new Minister's dating habits. No, it's just my life that's apparently everybody's business."

"Just them, Harry? No one else 'had no right'," Albus wanted to know.

"Oh, well, er." Harry stopped watching Albus wrap his hand, and turned to face him. "I know what you want me to say. The Dursley's, because they definitely had no right to treat me like that. But the strange thing is, they're probably the only ones I'm not mad with right now. Maybe because it's old news, I've lived with it for my whole life. And Dr. Tony and I have been dealing with it for a while now. It's everyone else prying into my life that's so messed up."

"Are you sure about that Harry? After all, if the Dursley's hadn't treated you as they did, if they had given you the love and support you deserved, that article could not have happened."

"Maybe. I don't know. I just don't want to be mad at them anymore. I want to be over it, but it won't stay in the past if people keep dragging it back in front of me."

That seemed to make sense, but Albus has to be certain. "Harry, are you sure you didn't do this to hurt yourself?

"Don't keep asking me that." Harry tried to pull his hand away again, and failed again. "Dr. Tony said if I hurt myself on purpose, he would put me in a hospital. I won't do that, so please don't even suggest it."

Albus was suddenly concerned that Harry was headed to a full-flown breakdown. He let go of Harry's hand and moved back to his desk. As he called Dobby to sit with Harry for a few minutes, he saw Fawkes leave his perch and settle next to the child. He left his office to the sound of phoenix song. He returned shortly, only to gently guide Harry through the floo to their cottage, where Dr. Tony was waiting. He left the two of them in the family room, and settled down at the kitchen table with a pot of tea and a small paperback that he thought might belong to Minerva.

When Tony opened the kitchen door about an hour and a half later, he motioned Albus into the room. Harry was sitting at the end of his couch. It was obvious he was emotionally exhausted, but he looked up and gave Albus a small smile.

"You can relax, Albus. Harry's not going anywhere. What happened today was venting, and nothing more. He had a bit of a shock today, and understandably felt people were conspiring against him again. I think in this instance, Harry wasn't even thinking of the consequences of hitting the wall, he just needed to get it out of his system. Some people refer to it as 'letting off steam'. It's a great analogy in this case, because holding in such strong emotions now can result in quite the explosion later."

The doctor chuckled as he continued, "As Harry has discovered, physical exertion can be a great release. That said, fighting stone walls is always a losing battle, so I've suggested that Harry start a simple exercise program. Many people take up boxing, running, or swimming, but he could even choose rock climbing. The only requirement is that it really push him, physically. I would suggest 2 or 3 nights a week, an hour or so each time, but that's only a suggestion. He should really go by how he feels."

Dr. Southwyck stood and gathered his things. "Well, to use an over-used phrase, my work here is done. Albus, if you would be so kind as to return me to my office, I think my receptionist is probably wondering why we are taking so long."

Albus sent Harry to his room to freshen up while he took the doctor home. Once he's returned to the cottage, he and Harry used the fireplace to return to his office. Harry was sent to his last class of the day with a note that _appeared_ to be from Madame Pomfrey, and a clean bandage on his hand. For the rest of the day, Harry calmly but firmly told anyone brave enough to comment that his private life was not their concern. Back in the common room, the rest of the Gryffindor's acted normal, for the most part. Some, most notably Seamus, apologized for their behavior. And Liesl, the fourth year he had run into back in Diagon Alley, loudly told Harry that his past was unimportant, it was who Harry was today that mattered, and that she was proud to be in the same House as him.

Harry seemed to be feeling better, but Ginny could tell that he wasn't up for the loud feast in the Great Hall, so she suggested a quite dinner in the kitchens, which Harry happily agreed to. As they seated themselves at a small table near the sinks, two elves carried platters of food over to them. Harry thanked them as he offered the mashed potatoes to Ginny. They took their time eating, and Ginny shared funny stories from her childhood. Harry, in turn, told her about some of his accidental magic incidents, and about the few times he had been able to get one-up on Dudley. He found himself telling her about some of his more incredible escapes from 'Harry hunting', and surprised himself by laughing at the incidents instead of getting upset.

By the time the elves came to clean around their table, Harry was telling Ginny about his rather embarrassing exam at Doctor Bombay's, and about the book he had received after the visit. Always the bold one, Ginny suggested he bring the book with him on their next date. They both felt they were ready to forward in their relationship, but as their explorations thus far were of the 'blind leading the blind' variety, Ginny thought it would be a helpful to have some expert advise.

They left the kitchens under the safety of Harry's cloak, and made several stops on their way back to the tower to 'check the alcoves'. Near midnight, they snuck into the Common Room, grateful that Ron hadn't been waiting for their return this time.

****end chapter****

**Notes:** Why was the Imperius on Katie imperfect? I just don't buy that a person being controlled by the Imperius curse could put someone else under the same curse successfully. To me it's like a fax of a fax – you lose something each time you remove it from the original. Anyway, that's my take on it.

About 'the Greato Pumpkin'. I'm really sorry, I just couldn't help myself. Once I knew he went splat like a pumpkin, I had to go back and change his last name. What can I say, my son loves Snoopy.

A few words about Harry being 'unfairly thrown off the team': Of course Harry is going to call it unfair, he felt justified in what he did. And I know that technically he attacked after Malfoy brought his own mother into it, but we all have a tendency to recount events in the way that best supports our own position. Also, IMHO, it takes 2 to fight, but Malfoy (who apparently wasn't disciplined at all) purposely provoked Harry and company, and that makes him culpable. Instead, one side gets _lifetime_ bans, the other side walks away with nothing? All things considered, I believe the ban _was_ unfair. (Personally, I think a one-game suspension for _all_ parties was in order.)

And finally, yes, those of you that were really paying attention did spot Harry's favorite paperback. I wonder how he's going to like it.


	20. Get Your Head in the Game

**Legal**: I own copies of the Harry Potter books, but I don't own what's in them.

.

.

**20. Get Your Head in the Game**

_=parseltongue being spoken=_

Harry awoke slowly the next morning, mentally running down what he had to do for the day. It was Friday, which meant Potions. That thought alone made Harry want to stay in bed. Then he remember yesterday's news story, and he wanted to find a way to lock the curtains around his bed. Although, he had to admit, his time with Dr. Tony had helped him plot his course of action: He would not be embarrassed, for he had done nothing wrong. He would not be harassed, for it was no ones business but his own (and Albus', he was family after all). He would survive this with the love and support of his family and friends, and every one else could go swim with the giant squid. His mind made up, he climbed out of bed and prepared to face the day.

As the other students left for breakfast, he motioned to his friends to stay behind. Once they had the common room to themselves, he hesitantly told them that, as hard as it may seem to believe, the _Prophet_ actually got it right this time. At first, no one said anything, and Harry started to get nervous, gripping Ginny's hand absently. Hermione was the one to break the silence, by gently telling him that she had always suspected as much. Ron concurred, summing it up by saying, "Really Harry, how thick do you think I am? Even I know bars on a window aren't normal. I was surprised about that other bit, though."

"Oh, well, that was news to me too. I mean, obviously I knew that I was Sirius' heir, but well, …" Harry trailed off, hoping the subject of his wealth would be dropped. To his relief, it was forgotten when Ginny reminded them that if they didn't move soon, all the crisp bacon would be gone. She had said the magic words, and Ron rushed them from the room lest they miss breakfast.

Unfortunately, in his relief at his friends' reactions, Harry had neglected to take into consideration the public's response to the article. He quickly realized his error when, about ten minutes after the foursome had arrived, the post owls started swooped in. Ten minutes after that, Harry had so many letters that they were spilling onto the floor. Looking to his friends for guidance, and getting only a shrug from Ron, he blindly grabbed one and cautiously opened it.

_My Dear Mister Potter,__  
_

_Allow me to express my outrage at the Daily Prophet for daring to print what is obviously private information. I have sent a howler to every staff member. My family and I stand behind you.  
_

_Sincerely,  
Truth McTavish_

"Well, that wasn't so bad," Harry commented after sharing the letter.

Hermione, who had also opened one, excitedly screeched, "Listen to this:

_Mister Potter,_

_For years I have been following your story, both through the Daily Prophet and by more direct means. It is clear to me that you have been not only slandered by the newspaper, but also unduly tormented by the previous Ministry administration. For my part in that travesty, you have my heartfelt apology._

_When certain events in your past history are viewed in this new context, it is clear that extenuating circumstances were at play. I see now that such instances should have been investigated, especially given the extremity of the event when you were 13. To correct this oversight, I have taken it upon myself to expunge your record.  
_

_Sincerely,  
Malfalda Hopkirk"_

"Wow, something good actually came from this mess." Neville said. "I guess every cloud really does have a silver lining. That's what Gran always says."

Ginny leaned forward and added, "Yeah, but she also wears a vulture on her hat."

"That hat was a birthday gift from her mother-in-law the year she married Granddad," Neville huffed.

To which Ginny responded, "Neville, are you sure her mother-in-law liked her?"

Snickering at the bewildered look on Neville's face, Harry started gathering his mail so he could head to class. He hadn't had the time or inclination to check the Daily Prophet, so he trusted that Hermione would fill him in, which she did later that day on their way to lunch.

"There were lots of letters to the editor, Harry. Almost all of them said it was criminal that you weren't treated right, and many demanded that the Dursleys be investigated. And people took the _Prophet_ to task for the tone of the article. They said the _Prophet_ could have handled it better. A couple people wanted to know why they didn't interview you for the article."

Harry snorted. "Like I would have done that."

"I know Harry," continued Hermione. "It's probably best they didn't even try. I can only imagine what your response would have been, and they would have used your refusal to make you look bad. Have you had a chance to look through any more letters?"

"Yeah, Ron and I looked at a few between classes. There were a couple against me – you know, I'm telling more lies or I must have deserved it, but most were very supportive."

"If that's what you want to call it, mate," Ron chimed in. "Seventeen marriage proposals so far, Mione. And then there are the other proposals. Three girls and one bloke want to have his baby. Not sure how that would work, but then again, that's not really my cup of tea. You are going to say no to that guy, aren't you Harry?"

After slugging Ron on the shoulder, Harry took a moment to ask his friends not to mention the proposals to Ginny. "I don't know, Harry. You're asking me to keep a secret from my own sister." Ron gave the appearance of a man deep in thought. "I'll make you a deal. I'll keep your secret if I also get to keep that picture that came with the letter from Liverpool. You know, the one of the blond. Wouldn't do for Ginny to see that." Harry laughed as he gave Ron the thumbs up, behind Hermione's back of course.

Over the next week, life once again returned to its quasi-normal stage. People had stopped asking questions, the letters had trickled off, and the _Daily Prophet_ had delegated the story to page eight, but that was probably due to the Quidditch scandal involving several famous players being accused of taking Felix Felicis. Strangely, they had been on opposing teams of the same game, resulting in a 27-hour match with a 2280-2460 final score.

Finally, it was the morning of the first Quidditch match – Gryffindor against Slytherin. Harry gathered the team in the locker room, keeping his speech short and to the point. "I want this win. All of you want this win. McGonagall _really_ wants this win. Hell, I think even Dumbledore wants this win. So, to paraphrase Wood, let's win or die trying."

"And everyone," added Ron, "if you see Harry going after Malfoy this year, stun him before he reaches the bugger. We can't have him tossed off the team again, now can we?"

Harry marched with his team confidently onto the field. As Madam Hooch went through the normal pre-game activities, he looked over the competition. He was surprised to notice that Slytherin was flying their replacement seeker. Most likely, Malfoy was taking advantage of the mostly empty castle to work on his plan, whatever that was. Harry barely registered the order to mount brooms and when the whistle blew he kicked off the ground on autopilot. He wasn't really concentrating on the game, and it showed in his movements – as the rest of the team sped away Harry stayed near the ground. To the crowd watching, it appeared as if he hadn't realized the game had even started. The Slytherin's in particular were loudly laughing at his apparent confusion.

The game had only been going for a few minutes, and Harry had spent all that time not even ten feet from the ground and well below the lowest row of spectators, when he saw it. The snitch was just above and in front of him; it was heading his direction, diving to go directly below him. As Harry took a second to mentally plot its flight path and calculate how to get to it, he was suddenly shoved hard in the back, forcing him to flip head-over-heels over the front end of his broom. The force of the hit, coupled with the surprise of the attack, caused Harry to lose his grip on the broomstick, and he fell. As he had only been 6 feet above the ground at the time, he landed quickly, and instantly felt pain shoot across his chest. Groaning, he pushed himself up with his arms, and saw gold beneath him. He had landed on the snitch! He quickly grabbed it before it had a chance to take off again, pumping his hand in the air.

As his teammates landed to check on him, he heard Madame Hooch call the game 150 to zero. There hadn't even been enough time for either side to score. Harry climbed to his feet and looked at the Gryffindor section, waving the snitch triumphantly for everyone to see. As the rush of winning fell away he realized that his chest hurt with every breath, but he stayed with his team, wanting to savor this victory. In the distance, he could see Professors Flitwick and Hooch rounding on Goyle. Minerva had also made her way to the ground, and she was quick to notice his shallow breathing. She ordered him to go straight to the hospital wing. He looked toward his guardian and covertly pointed to his chest, then the castle, only leaving after he saw Albus nod his understanding.

Once seated on a bed, Madam Pomfrey chucked his friends out and set to work, muttering about repeat customers emulating their godfathers. A quick scan showed a cracked rib from landing on the snitch, and a heavy bruise on his back from Goyle's forceful shove. As before, the broken bone was mended quickly, but his back was another story. Pomfrey decided that, in light of his back injury at the start of the year, she should do an in-depth scan. She had him take off his shirt and lie on his stomach, applied a thick cream to his entire back, and told him that she would be back in 20 minutes to check on him.

Luckily, the results showed no damage beyond the bruise, although that was rather deep in the muscle. For some reason, she couldn't find his file, so she jotted her notes on a spare parchment before going to retrieve a jar of what looked to Harry to be green gelatin. She applied the salve, which would accelerate the healing process, and told him to have a friend reapply it before bed for three days.

"I know you would much prefer that I apply it for you, but I feel it best to not encourage your attentions. I mean really, I've seen that cute little girlfriend of yours. You should be concentrating on her, young man. Now, you may go. And Mr. Potter, I really don't want to see you again this year, so do try to stay out of trouble."

Harry pulled on his clothes, thankful someone had sent them from the locker room, and sprinted out the door. Instead of heading to his common room to join the celebration, Harry made a quick detour to Albus' office, careful to hide under his cloak. Both he and his friends had become a bit lax about the 'never travel alone' rule, but he still used the cloak if no one was around, which he felt was a good compromise. He pulled it off as he opened the office door. He was surprised to see Snape sitting in a chair – '_out of_ _my chair, you git'_ – looking at him with the usual loathing. Harry knew Snape would question why he was there, so he quickly adlibbed, "I got the message you needed to see me, Sir."

"Yes, Harry. Thank you for your promptness. Severus, if you would give us a moment?" Albus said, indicating that Snape should leave the office.

"Take all the time you need, Headmaster. Seeing Potter reminds me that I have a rather large barrel of slugs to prepare for ingredients. I will send the information you requested up with an elf." Snape stood, and swept from the room without a single word to Harry.

"He's going soft, Sir." Harry said, laughing.

"How so, my boy?"

"I just fell off my broom and landed _on_ the snitch. He missed a golden opportunity to compare me to a lower-primate, and could have easily worked in a reference to my oh-so-arrogant father. If he keeps this up, he might slip and accidentally take points from Slytherin."

"Now Harry, no need to exaggerate. Severus would award points to Gryffindor for bravery in the face of danger before he would ever consider taking points from his own house." Harry's jaw dropped open at this admission. "But I doubt you are here to discuss the politics in house point equity. From the fact that you are standing here, can I presume that you are healthy and whole once again?"

As they spoke, a paper appeared on Albus' desk. Picking it up, Albus settled back into his chair. "Ah, yes, here's Poppy's report now … good, good … well that's odd … overall health is excellent." He placed the paper on his desk and looked over at Harry. "Yes, all seems well."

"What was odd, Sir?"

"Nothing life threatening, just a bit of recordkeeping. I'm sure the file will turn up. Now, Poppy tells me you have a salve that needs to be applied nightly?" At Harry's yes, he continued, lowering his head so he was looking at Harry over his glasses. "I hope that if you plan to ask Miss Weasley to apply the salve you will remember that she still has an older brother in attendance at this school, and several more that you will no doubt see over the holidays."

Harry squirmed a bit in his seat and blushed. "I think perhaps I'll ask Hermione to put the salve on. She's like a sister to me, so that should be OK."

Albus smiled as he voiced his opinion. "I believe Miss Granger would consent, and that Miss Weasley would not have a problem with such an arrangement." They spent a few more minutes talking about the game, and Harry's school year in general before Harry excused himself to join the victory celebration.

Being the star of the game, Harry was unable to sneak off with Ginny that night, so they decided to have their own private celebration Sunday after breakfast. Making what they were both sure were rather poor excuses, they left the Great Hall and headed for their tower room. This early in the day, the room was warmed by the bright sunlight, and they carelessly kicked off their shoes as they settled into the comfortable couch, Ginny leaning into Harry's side.

After a few minutes of just enjoying being together, Harry reached over and pulled two letters and a package from his bag. The first letter was from Remus. Sitting as they were, Ginny couldn't see the letter, so Harry read it out loud for her benefit, doing his best Moony imitation. The ex-Professor, like all his friends, wanted to make sure that Harry had survived the aftermath of the article. He also mentioned that he had finished removing a certain wall in the house, and had found what amounted to a safe box inside the wall. The box contained bars of pure gold and silver; Remus couldn't begin to guess their value, but there had to be at least 100 of each. He suspected this was the 'emergency stash' that the Black's would have kept nearby for they, like many old pureblood families, didn't fully trust the Goblins. He suggested Harry might want to keep the bars handy since they could be easily sold in the muggle world for a quick escape. He ended the letter by letting Harry know he would try to see him over Christmas break.

Harry hesitated before opening the second letter. It was from Uncle Abe, and Harry didn't know if there would be anything incriminating in it. However, one look at his girlfriend told him he wouldn't get away with not reading the letter. He held it so Ginny couldn't actually see it in case he needed to skip over anything, and again read aloud, albeit in his normal voice.

_Dear Harry, I'll keep this short as I'm not one for putting anything in writing. I read that article. Those people need to mind their own beeswax. Right about now, I'm sure you can use a good laugh. Well, you ain't getting it here. But you can always stop in for a good old story or a stiff drink, whichever you think would help the most. And by the way, feel free to use this letter to prove to that brother of mine that I can read. I just don't find letters from him worth the effort. Uncle Abe_

Harry had barely finished reading when he dropped the letter to the floor and immediately moved his attention to the package, lest Ginny start asking questions. In his effort to divert Ginny's attention, he made quite the production of checking the package, which was from Fred and George. Shaking the plainly wrapped box, his senses on high alert, he got an idea. He loudly and clearly announced, "Kreacher, I need you." Within seconds, the disgruntled old house elf arrived in the room, bowing deeply but not really hiding the look of disgust on his face. "Master says he needs Kreacher, so Kreacher comes even though he would rather serve – "

"Enough, Kreacher. I have a few jobs for you. First, I need you to open this package for me." Harry handed the box over. "Without damaging whatever is inside," he quickly added before he let go. With Kreacher it was best to always look for loopholes.

Kreacher held the box by just the tips of his fingers, and moved to the nearest table. Setting it down, he snapped his fingers, and box fell open with a cloud of smoke. At the same time, something shot out of the box and landed in Harry's lap.

Harry looked down, exclaiming =Bloody hell, get off me=, as both he and Ginny jumped off the couch. The snake that had landed on his lap dropped to the floor, and bounced, flying straight toward Kreacher. But Kreacher was staring wide-eyed at Harry, and didn't notice the object until it hit him in the head. Back to the floor it bounced several times, before finally coming to a rest near Ginny's foot.

Harry took a moment to poke what turned out to be a rubber snake with his foot. =Just a bloody fake! Those imbeciles=, he hissed, still looking down at the snake. Turning away from the snake, he spoke to the elf. "Well, back to business. Kreacher, it has been brought to my attention that a safe box was found hidden in Grimmauld Place. I need you to go there and show Remus Lupin any other hiding places in the house that need checked. Then immediately return to the castle. Do not do anything else at the house or make any other stops. Do not talk to anyone while you are gone except Remus. Then return to your job here at the castle. Understand?"

"Kreacher understands Master. Kreacher will go now." And with a snap of his fingers, he was gone.

Harry stood for a minute staring at the spot where a moment ago his elf had stood. "Gin, did he just call me master, without adding an insult to it?"

"Yeah," said an equally awed Ginny.

"So I didn't imagine it?"

"No, I definitely heard it too," she replied as she took his hand in hers, pulling him close.

"Alright then." Harry shook his head to clear the confusion away. "Let's see if those nitwit brothers of yours sent a letter."

Walking to the table, they found a note in the bottom of the box, and they held it between them as they both read:

_To our dearest benefactor, You never responded to our last letter_

You know, the one were Fred asked if he could have your love child.

_Yes, that one. I guess I'll just have to see if Granger will do it._

Now, on to business. Enclosed in this package is out latest product

_You did find it, didn't you?_

The Bouncing Basilisk. Great, isn't it?

_Now here's our problem. We've never actually seen a basilisk. Hence our letter._

You see, rumor has it you have in fact seen a basilisk.

_Slaughtered, you mean._

Right, slaughtered a basilisk. So we were wondering, how does he look?

_Did we get the coloring right? Are the fangs big enough? We had a hard time understanding your description, seeing as we were listening through a door at the time._

So, let us know how we did, so we know what to fix. In addition to the bouncing, we're working on charming the eyes to squirt water out when someone looks into them.

_Don't quite have that worked out yet._

Anyway, tell Ginny we said hi.

_Preferably from a distance of two feet, right George?_

Yes, and when you are kissing, tongues stay in your own mouths.

_That's an image I didn't need, George._

In other words, behave you two.

_Fred _and George

.

Harry tried to think of something to say that wouldn't incriminate him, and came up empty. "So, you want to sit back down?" he finally asked, gesturing to the couch. They sat in silence for a bit, while Harry mentally made up excuses and Ginny planned her attack. But before she could pounce, he cracked.

"I'm sorry Ginny. I should have told you that I gave them the money. But back when you asked, we weren't that close. And then, it became a game. You know, you would hint, I would deny, you would try to slip me up. Please don't be mad." He then proceeded to tell her the entire story of when and why he had given them the money. In the end Ginny really wasn't mad at all. She, too, had enjoyed their word games, and felt that the twins had put the money to excellent use. She playfully picked up the rubber snake, and Harry pointed out the mistakes the twins had made, as Ginny had tried hard to not look at the original back then.

Ginny was bouncing the basilisk off her knee as she wondered aloud, "You were talking in parseltongue earlier. Did you know that?"

Harry snorted. "Not really. It just slips out sometimes. I don't even remember what I said, I was so surprised."

"I know what you mean. It was a bit scary. Just because it appeared to be from the twins, it could have been from anyone. It could have really been dangerous. Maybe you should start getting your post screened."

"That's not a bad idea," Harry responded, though in truth he didn't really know what she had just said. He had become rather fascinated with her neck, and leaned forward to put a kiss there. He could feel her pulse under his lips as he opened his mouth to run his tongue up her neck to her ear, which he sucked into his mouth.

Ginny turned in his arms so she was facing him, deciding the time was perfect to enact her plan. "Let's make this more interesting, Harry. Let's play truth or consequences."

Harry pulled back so he could see her better, a little disappointed to stop his progress. "Er, alright. How do we play?"

"It's simple. You see, I think I know some of your secrets. So I'm going to tell you ten things I've deduced, and every time I'm right, you take something off. And every time I'm wrong, I have to take something off. How does that sound?"

Harry's brain knew that this was a bad idea – she might try to guess who his guardian was, and no one was supposed to know. But Harry wasn't exactly thinking with his brain. Instead, he was mentally trying to calculate how many articles of clothing Ginny was wearing. He figured he was comfortable loosing four items, but could probably go five, so he could afford her to be right half the time. He boldly decided it was a risk worth taking. "Alright, go ahead."

Ginny moved back, so there was a space between them on the couch, and turned her whole body toward Harry. "Alright, first, you snuck out of school to arrange our date at the Hog's Head."

Harry smiled, relieved that she seemed to be completely off target. "Sorry Ginny, wrong."

Ginny nodded her understanding, and removed her robe. She was wearing a green jumper with a dragon on the front – '_hold on, isn't that mine?'_ – and jeans underneath. "Let's try this. I know you arranged that date somehow, so you must know the bartender at the Hog's Head personally."

She smirked as he slowly agreed with her. As he removed his robe, she continued. "Nice jumper. Now, third, the bartender at the Hog's Head is the person who sent you that letter. He is Uncle Abe."

Now Harry was getting concerned. She seemed entirely too confident in that one; but she couldn't have made the connection between a bartender and the Headmaster, could she? Harry slowly bent over and removed one sock, dropping it onto the floor.

Ginny decided to take a chance. "Fourth, my mum and dad know who your guardian is."

"That would be incorrect, Miss Weasley," Harry said, for he didn't know that they in fact did. He smiled, because she wasn't as close to the truth as he'd feared, and because he had just noticed that she wasn't wearing any socks.

With a dramatic sigh Ginny took off her jumper, revealing a tight T-shirt underneath. Thinking about her true goal, she decided to go for broke. She tried to adopt a nervous look, and said, "Five, your guardian owns the Hog's Head."

"Sorry, but no. At least, I don't think so." Harry tilted his head to the side while he thought. "Since I can't confirm that, it can't be considered right, so it has to be wrong." Harry licked his lips as he watched her lift her arms over her head to remove the t-shirt. Harry had trouble taking his eyes away from the plain white satin bra, which he thought was filled out rather nicely, so he could look her in the eye. In fact, he failed miserably, much to Ginny's delight.

Time to move in for the stun, Ginny thought. "Six, Uncle Abe is your guardian."

Harry couldn't believe his luck. At least he actually managed to raise his eyes to her face to tell her she was wrong. He watched in awe as Ginny stood from the couch and slowly removed her jeans. If he was honest, he would have to admit that this was the first time he had seen a live woman in her under clothes. Sure, he had looked at magazines, but this was real, and right in front of him, and best of all, only for him. He shifted in his seat to alleviate the sudden tightness in his jeans. After a minute, Harry swallowed, and told Ginny to go on.

Ginny cleared her throat and got comfortable on the couch, a bit closer to Harry than she was before. To Harry, it appeared as if sitting around in her underclothes was perfectly normal for her. When she spoke again, he soft voice sent shivers down his spine.

"Alright, time to get serious. Seven, Abe is short for Aberforth." Now she had his attention, well, his brain's attention. The rest of him had been at full attention for awhile now. Without speaking (he wasn't even sure he could by this point), he carefully bent to remove his other sock, and tossed it at her.

She laughed as she batted it away, then got serious again. "Eight, the Headmaster has a brother named Aberforth." Harry suddenly knew that he was about to lose the game, and somewhere in his mind it registered that that was bad, but he also knew that he didn't care. He removed his jumper to reveal his (in Ginny's opinion) well-toned chest.

This time it was Ginny that had to force her eyes back up. "Nine, your guardian's first name is Albus." Harry just stared at her for a minute before realizing that she was waiting on him to move. He stood up and undid his zipper. Knowing that there would be no hiding his condition, he carefully pushed the jeans the floor, and kicked them to the side. He stood for a moment resisting the urge to put his hands in front of himself; dropping back onto the couch when his embarrassment overcame his courage. When he was finally brave enough to look at Ginny, her eyes were looking _there_.

They sat in silence, both nervous and excited about what was to come next, before Ginny remembered she was supposed to speak. "Ten … your guardian's last name starts with a 'D'."

Harry shifted a bit closer to Ginny so their knees were touching, and spoke quietly to Ginny's lap, unable to get his eyes to move up. "Gin, I don't think it's a good idea for me to take anything else off. I'm, er, not ready to do, _you know_, and if we take this any further, things might get out of hand, and we might do, _that_, and it would be a mistake. And it wouldn't be, safe. Would it?" He finally looked at her as she shook her head. "Yeah, so let's just leave it like this?"

Ginny leaned forward so she was just inches away from him, her hand brushing his thigh. She could afford to be generous, she'd won more than she had planned on – she hadn't counted on him not wearing an undershirt. And he had a valid point; as much as she wanted to see a naked Harry, she wasn't ready to _be with_ naked Harry. "Alright. You admit that I'm right, and I'll let you off the hook."

"Ginny, you touch me like that again, and I'll admit to anything," Harry sighed.

She looked him in the eye, and moved her hand back to his thigh, leaving it there. She could feel the warmth of his skin under his hand.

Harry put his hand on top of hers, and looked her in the eye as he said, "My guardian is Albus Percival Wooly Bloody Dumbledore." And with that, his restraint dissolved, and he pulled her to him for a deep kiss. Without clothes in the way, the teens enthusiastically allowed their hands to explore each other, touching in places they had never dared before. Time seemed to speed by for them, until the fog in Harry's brain cleared enough for him to realize that Ginny's hand was close, very close, to It. And It wanted her to move that hand even closer. Finally using his primary brain, Harry gently pushed Ginny up – '_when did she get on top of me?'_ – and begged her to give him a minute.

Harry could tell by watching her face the exact moment she realized the position they were in, and how much he was enjoying it. They slowly drew apart, their exhilaration turning to embarrassment. Harry had never been this intimate with anyone else, and so he wasn't sure how he should act. He suspected the same was true for Ginny; her sudden nervousness seemed to indicate as much. Self-conscious about his near-nakedness, Harry began looking for his clothes when he noticed Ginny's T-shirt lying nearby. He picked it up and handed it to her, giving her a slight smile as she turned to thank him.

The awkwardness of the moment past, they set to work finding their clothes – Harry's jeans had ended up across the room – and dressed. As they finished, Harry suggested that Ginny head back to the common room, saying that he would follow just as soon as he took care of something. She smiled knowingly, lightly kissed him goodbye, and headed out. Harry followed about half an hour later.

In the following week the two kept their encounters to a more innocent level. When the weekend arrived, Harry invited Ginny to the tower room again. After a bit of small talk and light snogging, Harry pulled out Kirk's Reference Guide, and opened it to the marked page.

The Chastity Charm: created in 1776 by an unnamed Swedish wizard to protect the purity of his eleven daughters. The Charm is applied to a pure witch any time after the onset of puberty.  
Once applied, any male touching the witch below the so-called panty line receives a mild shock. Subsequent touches within a 5 hour period result in increasingly painful shocks,  
until the aggressor is finally knocked unconscious. The incantation is "Skydda Renhet", with the caster's wand pointing to the witches womb.

Being tortured with shock therapy didn't sound like much fun to Harry, but both were aware that they had gotten carried away the previous weekend, and weren't willing to risk an all-out loss of restraint. They had agreed they needed the comfort of this safety net. Once it had been applied, they eagerly set about testing its limits. When they were done, Harry could attest to just how painful the shocks could be.

As November gave way to December, Harry and Ginny spent much of their private time in their tower room testing the limits of the charm, as well as trying a few of the more interesting things they had found in the book. Harry had become fairly skilled at avoiding the shocks while still giving Ginny a pleasant time.

**** end chapter ****

**Notes:** Before you complain, I know Harry knows Dumbledore's name, but he wasn't exactly thinking clearly. Let's cut the hormonal teenager some slack.

About the Quidditch game; it turns out I'm so not good at describing sports. That's why I like NASCAR, it's easy to describe. (and the driver turns left … now he's turning left … you won't believe this, but he's going left AGAIN) As you can see, I had to end the game quickly. And if I were you I wouldn't get my hopes up for the remaining games.


	21. Holiday Visits

Legal Bit: If you recognize it, I don't own it. Unless you only recognize it from an earlier chapter of _this_ story, in which case, maybe I do.

.

.

**21. Holiday Visits**

The beginning of December brought with it the last Hogsmeade trip before Christmas. Students began heading into the snow-covered village to finish preparing for the holiday, an activity they unknowingly shared with their Headmaster. Albus was determined to make Harry's first family Christmas the best possible, and he feared there would be a piece missing come Christmas morning. Oh, Albus knew that technically Harry had had one grand family Christmas – his first was with his parents, after all – but the boy couldn't remember it, so Albus didn't count it. He knew Harry didn't either.

Albus leisurely strolled through Hogsmeade, greeting the villagers and students as he passed them by, while silently hoping his meeting would go well. He feared he was on a fool's errand; in this case, getting what he wanted was tantamount to a Christmas Miracle. Finally arriving at his destination, he braced himself for the inevitable confrontation and went inside.

The door loudly slammed shut behind him, earning the bartender's attention. The man looked up, not stopping his work. "What you want today, Headmaster?", asked a gruff voice.

"Please Aberforth, can't you call me Albus? I was most certainly never your Headmaster. I am only a few years older than you, after all," Albus said in a tired voice. Why was talking to his own brother always so difficult?

Abe spoke again, continuing to run his dirty rag across the top of the equally-dirty counter. "Have it your way. What you want today, _Albus_?"

"A moment of your time is all, though a nice glass of spiced pumpkin juice wouldn't be turned down." In truth, Albus wasn't sure he'd get either.

Abe looked at his brother for a long moment, then to the only patron in the pub. "Outa here, Losko. I got better things to do today than listen to you talk about your poor dead hamster. Probably killed itself just to get away from a boring old coot like you. Now out!" To emphasis his point, he threw his dirty rag at the man.

After Losko had left, grumbling about no respect for the grieving, Albus took a seat on a barstool and began. "I've come to invite you to the cottage for Christmas. You are welcome to spend the day, have dinner, and even stay the night if you so choose."

Abe leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. "What in Camelot makes you think I would want to spend any holiday with you?"

Albus reminded himself to remain calm. "Harry makes me think so. He's never had a family Christmas, and I want to give him one."

Abe gruffly barked out, "And whose fault is that?"

"I am fully aware of the poor decisions I have made in his regard, as is he, Aberforth. But that is not the issue. Making _this_ Christmas everything he desires it to be is. As unfathomable as it seems to me, Harry now considers you to be family." Albus' voice took on a hardness as he added, "When you came to the cottage this past summer, I warned you not to play with his emotions. He will want you with us, _Uncle Abe._"

"I don't play games, Albus. I leave that to you," Abe growled, before looking past Albus' shoulder obviously deep in thought. With a sigh, he finally conceded, "For him, I will come."

Albus did a wonderful job of hiding his surprise, waving his hand in front of him casually as he replied, "I thank you. I will have a room ready, should you decide to stay with us. We will be at the cottage after dinner on Christmas Eve and will remain until the morning of Boxing Day, when Harry will be leaving to join his friends."

Abe's skepticism showed in his voice as he asked, "You'll be away from your precious castle Christmas Day? How ever will they survive the day without you?"

Albus choose to ignore the sarcasm, staying calm by pretending he was speaking to one of his students, "I have full confidence that Minerva can handle Christmas dinner in my stead. My place this year is with Harry."

Abe looked at his brother with a critical eye. "I like Harry, Albus," the man admitted. "He's a good kid. Deserves better than he's gotten." He held up his hand to stop his brother from interrupting. "Don't get your beard in a twist, I'm not just talking about you. A lot of people treated him like dragon dung, and only an idiot would think that had no effect on him. But, loath as I am to admit this, you've been good for him. He's not the angry kid that came in here last year plotting a rebellion. Now, there's a spark in his eyes, and he seems almost happy. Maybe you've finally learned."

"Learned?"

Abe gave his brother a look that clearly said 'you idiot', but he explained anyway. "What family really means. Too bad it took so long for you to figure out." Abe picked up a new rag, and went back to wiping his bar. Keeping his eyes down, he added, "Now go, you got what you came for." He stubbornly continued his task, refusing to acknowledge his brother as Albus bid him goodbye and left.

For the rest of the afternoon, both brothers had much to think about.

-000-

Harry couldn't believe that Christmas break was almost upon them. It seemed like Halloween had just passed. But then again, he was keeping himself rather busy. Shortly after the Quidditch match, he had decided to follow Dr. Tony's advice, and had joined the Battleball Club. It had actually been Dennis Creevey who had brought the club to his attention. Harry had seen Dennis returning from the club one evening, and with little questioning the younger boy had eagerly explained the game.

As Harry understood, Battleball was a free-for-all game of elimination, with every person playing for themselves. The victor was the last one on the court, which was roughly the size of the Entrance Hall. A game started with all players standing on the edge of the court, and five bright red grapefruit-sized balls, called 'cannons', scattered around the floor. At the sound of the whistle, players scrambled to grab the cannons. The players lucky enough to get one (called the fighters) threw them at any other player (called the target) with the intent to hit the person. If the target was hit, they were eliminated; if the target caught the cannon, the fighter was out. Physical contact was not allowed, and more importantly, neither were wands. In fact, other than cushioning charms on the cannons so targets didn't get hurt, there was no magic involved. The game was purely physical. That was what made it a popular game for children still at home, and also why it fit Dr. Tony's criteria.

Harry had expected Madam Hooch to oversee the club, seeing as she was the only athlete on staff, but it was actually Professor Sinistra who was in charge. She acted as supervisor and referee, and her word was law. The entire club met every Wednesday for weekly tournaments in a large room on the second floor that had been set aside for various clubs to use. Harry had also joined a smaller group of club members that got together on Saturdays for practice. He had discovered that the doctor had been right – slamming the cannon into someone was a great stress reliever, especially without the guilt of hurting anyone.

That had come in particularly helpful when _Witch Weekly_ ran a follow-up article to the _Daily Prophet's_ Halloween expose. At least the writer of this article seemed to sympathize; it had been written as if to ask 'what can we do to help our savior?' That's not to say it didn't also infringe on his personal business; they just did it in a different way. They quoted 'unnamed healers' as 'having noted' that they suspected a 'less than ideal' home life, craftily lambasting anyone cruel enough to invade the Boy-Who-Lived's private medical records while discussing them at the same time. But by now, Harry's mistreatment was old news, and other than the usual Slytherins nobody commented on the new article much.

Albus had spent the better part of an afternoon trying to uncover the person that had leaked the Hogwart's medical file, but the trail had been too cold and he had failed. At least they hadn't gotten his records from Doctor Bombay. The strange healer confided that there had been an attempted break-in at his office, but he kept his medical records in his spare golf bag, so they had been safe.

And so Harry had kept himself busy in the time leading up to the holiday break.

As Harry's friends left the castle to catch the train, Harry was sent to the Headmaster's office to 'meet his guardian'. Which is to say, he moved back into his room in Albus' apartment. For the first part of the break, he used the stealth skills he had perfected during his summer stay to get to the old clearing via the gatehouse so he could fly without being sighted, even in broad daylight. He was thankful that Albus had allowed him this small freedom as long as Dobby (who apparently was his designated elf-sitter) tagged along. He also spent several hours perusing the Restricted Section of the library right under Madam Pince's ever watchful eyes.

He missed Ginny, all his friends really, but couldn't deny that he was enjoying himself. One night, when Albus returned to the apartment after dinner, they roasted marshmallows in his fireplace. Another night, he and Albus convinced Dobby to help them build a replica of Hogwarts out of Chocolate Frog cards. Apparently, Dobby was putting his hard earned money to a new use and now had over 300 of the cards, unbelievably including the coveted Agrippa card. Harry bought the card off Dobby for four socks (none matching, of course) and the promise that Dobby could give him a back rub. Dobby knew how to drive a hard bargain.

Speaking of demented house elves, Harry had mentioned Kreacher's odd behavior – his sudden lack of disrespect and willingness to obey – to Albus. After asking for a few points of clarification, Albus smiled as he developed a theory. He had traced the beginning of the odd occurrences to the moment the elf had heard Harry speaking in parseltongue. The Blacks, being the dark family that they were, would have been ecstatic to have a speaker in the family. And so, in perfect house-elf logic, Kreacher had decided that anyone who could speak the noble language of the serpent would have been welcomed by his late mistress, and had embraced Harry as a worthy master.

On Christmas Eve, the duo headed to the cottage as soon as dinner ended at the school. When Harry stepped in the front door, he couldn't believe the transformation. The entire cottage was decorated for the holiday; no surface had been left untouched. There was a Christmas tree in every corner of the family room, and another next to the fireplace in Albus' work area. Garland hung from banisters, window sills, and door frames, and there were real icicles on the glass windows. Christmas music, a mix of both muggle and magical, filled the downstairs.

Upstairs was similarly bedecked, with the addition of Poinsettia plants in the corners. Inside his bedroom, Harry was pleased that the Headmaster had restrained himself. Or maybe Dobby, he really wasn't sure whose over-exuberance had been responsible for the decorating, and he thought it rude to ask. The garland was thankfully limited to the door and window frames, the rest of the room had been left untouched, with one exception. Sitting upon his desk was his very own Christmas tree, tastefully decorated in green and gold to match the room's décor. Since he and his friends would be exchanging gifts at Grimmauld Place on Boxing Day, Harry only placed the gifts for his family, Dobby and Hedwig under the tree. Hedwig's gift consisted of two live mice and a toad – _sorry Neville_ – that he knew she would help herself to in the morning.

When Harry woke on Christmas morning, he found a single, perfect, white feather on his pillow. He looked at his owl, and saw her nod and briefly turn toward the tree, where Harry saw that she had enjoyed part of her gift already. He also noticed three gifts, which was strange since they were exchanging family gifts after breakfast. With child-like excitement, he jumped from his bed and snatched up the first. It was from Dobby, which in hindsight he should have known by the way it was wrapped. Opening the gift, hoping it wasn't more artwork as the shape and thickness was about the same, he found a magazine. It was old, dated November 1935 in the upper corner, but it was the picture that had drawn Harry's attention. There on the front cover, prominently featured under the title (_Make It Yourself_) was a very familiar face with auburn hair, full beard, and twinkling blue eyes. It was a much younger Albus Dumbledore, 'recently appointed Hogwarts Transfiguration Professor', who in this issue 'discusses the steps to becoming an Animagus'. To Harry, the gift held double meaning, and it was worth far more than the bundle of yarn he had given the elf.

The second gift he opened truly was unexpected. It was from Kreacher. Harry was a bit afraid to open the gift, at least until he saw Hedwig give him a look that Harry equated to being called a 'fraidy cat'. He clasped his wand in his hand and opened the package – not easy with a wand in your hand, but he wasn't taking any chances. Inside the package was an old picture (Harry was sensing a theme here) of two young, well-dressed boys with dark hair. They were standing in a familiar room, in front of a fireplace, wearing cloaks like they were about to go somewhere. They were laughing, and poking each other with their elbows. Turning the picture over, he read "Sirius and Regulus, heading to their first house elf auction."

Harry was stunned. Why had Kreacher given him this? It was a thoughtful gift, and something the elf obvious treasured, since he had clearly saved it during last year's clearing-out. Harry knew that for as much as Kreacher had loathed Sirius, he had loved Regulus even more, so for him to part with this picture was astounding. Perhaps Albus was right, and Kreacher had accepted Harry. Deciding to find a way to thank the elf later he set the picture aside to open his last gift. It was from Horace Slughorn – a bottle of Confederate Firewhisky.

After getting dressed, and putting the firewhisky safely in a drawer, Harry picked up the other two gifts and went downstairs. Waiting for him in the family room were Albus and Aberforth, and of course more gifts. While he greeted the two men and made himself comfortable on his couch, Albus magically sorted the gifts, sending Harry's to pile up next to him. Harry carefully placed the picture and magazine on the low table before digging into his pile.

Half an hour later, Harry had a nice stack of clothes, robes, books, a new chess set with crystal pieces, a subscription to _Snitched_ magazine, and something that looked like a miniature toaster, but that whistled when it was touched. He'd have to figure that one out later. Uncle Abe discreetly mentioned that there would be no charge at the Hog's Head until he was done with Hogwarts, or until he made Albus a grandfather, whichever came first, _wink, wink_. Harry blushed at the implication.

Sitting back with a glass of spiced pumpkin juice, Harry watched the adults open their gifts. He hoped they enjoyed what he had gotten them. Among other things, he had given Albus a framed picture of himself playing Quidditch (he hoped that didn't seem conceited), a pair of socks knitted by Dobby, and some ball-point pens. For Uncle Abe, he had gotten a box of WWW trick candies, and a copy of The Three Billy Goats Gruff. Gifts had also been exchanged with Hagrid, Remus Lupin, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and even with Minerva.

As the family sat down for Christmas Dinner, Harry and Albus in matching jumpers of royal blue (Albus wore his over top of his robes), Harry shared his gifts from the two house elves. Abe had a good laugh at Albus' article, but refused to tell Harry Albus' Animagus form under threat of Albus telling someone named Gimpy the 'true fate of his pet flamingo'. Kreacher's gift had initially sobered the group, it was after all a picture of two boys both dead before their time, and both because of Voldemort. Albus picked up the mood by telling stories of the boys at Hogwarts. Regulus, it turned out, had quite the habit of taking girls up to the Astronomy Tower, often running into his brother who was doing the same.

Minerva stopped by that evening with something called Christmas Egg Nog, and was roped into singing a few Christmas carols before leaving. (She politely declined to join Abe in a few of the songs, such as _Santa looked a lot like Merlin_.)

After breakfast on Boxing Day, Abe bid his family a good trip, and left for his bar. He was grumbling about lost earning on his way out the door, but Harry could see the smile on his face. He and Albus left moments later, walking onto the front stoop to prepare to travel. Albus was allowing Harry to apparate himself, so they arrived several houses away from Grimmauld Place, and walked the short distance to the front door.

Upon entering the house, Harry was hugged by what seemed to be every female in the house, before being pulled into the sitting room to visit with his friends and share gifts. As he handed his gift to Ron, he felt it needed to be explained. "Ron, before you open this, I want you to understand that I didn't pay for this." He rolled his eyes at the looks he was getting. "I mean, I didn't buy it, I traded for it. Oh, just open it already, you'll understand when you see it."

Ron unwrapped and opened the very heavy box to find an envelope. He picked up the envelope, and let the empty, but still heavy box fall to the floor. "Showoff. So, you're giving me an envelope? No wonder you didn't pay for it. Well, really, it's nice. Goes with the one I got from Charlie, like it's part of a set. Thanks, mate."

Harry swatted Ron's arm. "Prat! Look inside the envelope."

Ron made a big production out of emptying the envelope. "Wow, a chocolate frog … Harry, this is Agrippa! These are real hard to get. You bought this for me?"

Harry laughed. "Did you not listen, Ron? I didn't buy it. I know someone who happened to have it, and didn't really want it. He, er, thinks the other side is the pretty side so he doesn't really care who's on the front. He was going to just give it to me, but that didn't seem right, so I convinced him to trade for it."

Ron continued to stare at the card. "Harry, this is worth a fortune. You can't just give this away."

"Yes I can," Harry said. "Lucky for me, I already have a fortune, so I don't really need another one. Besides, I don't really see the big deal about him anyway. I prefer witches myself."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Ha ha. Thanks, mate. And this time, I really mean it."

Harry sat on the sofa, pulling Ginny down with him. After giving her a Christmas kiss (and one for Christmas Eve, and Christmas morning, and several other events he could think of), he handed her a brightly wrapped gift. Inside she found a basket full of specialty soaps and the like. Having used Albus' Erumpent's Milk lotion, he had decided that Ginny deserved to be pampered, and had bought her the complete line of Erumpent's Milk products. Ginny squealed in delight, launching herself back into his arms for another round of kisses. Finally, she moved away, and Harry turned to look at her. There was a window behind her, making it appear that she was surrounded by light. She had pulled her hair into a loose bun, and pieces were falling gracefully around her face. Harry thought she looked like she was his very own angel. He noticed she was wearing the necklace he had given her for her birthday, and he reached his hand up to lightly touch it.

"Beautiful," he breathed.

"Yes it is," Ginny agreed, reaching up to put her hand over his, resting at her neckline.

"I meant you, Gin." They sat like that, her hand holding his, looking in each other's eyes, until the door was loudly opened, interrupting the moment.

"Lunch time, little kiddies," one of the twins announced.

"And Harry, Ginny isn't on the menu," said the other as they turned to retreat to the kitchen. The teens followed, and everyone squeezed into seats around the crowded table.

As always, Mrs. Weasley had put together a delicious meal, and soon everyone was busy eating and talking. Tonks, who had taken the seat across from Ginny, and therefore next to Remus, looked over and commented, "That's a beautiful necklace, Ginny. Christmas gift?"

"I've had it awhile, actually." Ginny had never made a big deal out of the gift; she knew certain people would question a gift of such value, assuming it was real, which knowing where it came from, it was.

Tonks accepted the answer. "Well, it's nice. Actually, it reminds me of the Black family betrothal necklace. You probably never paid close attention, but dear Auntie Walburga was wearing it in that portrait." Around them, several people toasted the portraits demise.

Minerva, who had arrived in time for pudding, said "you don't say. And how did the necklace work, Tonks?" Oddly enough, though the question was addressed to Tonks, Minerva was looking at Albus.

Tonks hadn't noticed, and she responded, "It was said that the male heir would feel compelled to offer the necklace to the woman he loved. If she accepted it, she was considered a part of the family from that moment on. Every woman to ever wear the necklace married into the family. Of course, the whole story is a bunch of codswallop if you ask me. You know, Mum once told me that right after Regulus died, Narcissa tried to get the necklace for Draco. Apparently she wanted it so badly that she actually asked my Mum to help her convince the old hag. Aunt Cissy had quite the fit when Walburga refused."

Around the table everyone was laughing, and they started telling their favorite 'Malfoy/Black' stories. But an observant person would have noticed Minerva shoot Albus a questioning look, to which he simply smiled back. And noticed Molly Weasley discreetly watch her daughter, wearing said betrothal necklace, blush and speak quietly with her boyfriend, the Black family heir. And noticed Ginny, looking down to hide her blush. And an equally red Harry grabbing Ginny's hand under the table and giving it a gentle squeeze. A truly observant person would have heard him whisper to her, "When I found that necklace, I just knew I had to give it to you. Now I know why." Luckily, no one was being that observant today.

Harry was allowed to spend the weekend with his friends at Grimmauld Place while Albus returned to his school, and Sunday afternoon found the four teens in the sitting room discussing Malfoy's task. Between snatches of conversations they had overheard, the very little Snape had reported to the Headmaster, and their own observations, they had worked out that Malfoy had become paranoid, and looked like he wasn't eating or sleeping well. Unfortunately, none of these 'brilliant observations' (as Hermione called them) had gotten them any closer to figuring out his plan. At least they had confirmed that the Room of Requirement was definitely being used by Malfoy, mostly thanks to Harry and Ginny spending three straight evenings doing surveillance outside the room under his invisibility cloak. It was rather frustrating, and Harry was sorely disappointed that the answer wasn't on the back of a chocolate frog card this time.

It was during their discussion of Malfoy, and Horcruxes, and Voldemort in general, that the Ministry and the lost prophecy was brought up. Harry looked at his closest friends, and decided that they needed to know – that he needed them to know.

"Guys, about that prophecy. It wasn't exactly lost." And not giving himself a chance to change his mind, he launched into an abridged version of his conversation with Dumbledore from that night, ending with the prophecy. "Sorry I didn't tell you sooner. I just, well, there was so much going on, you know? It was just too much to really think about." When he was done, he looked around at each of his friends. Hermione had her head cocked to the side, like she was deep in thought. '_Probably already trying to find a loop hole.'_ Ron looked confused, like he hadn't really understood what he had heard. And Ginny, she looked determined. Catching his eye, she grabbed his hand and pulled him into a hug.

After letting him go, she said, "Now that we've heard it, it should have been obvious. But Harry, it doesn't change a thing." She moved so she was beside him with her arm around his waist.

"That's right," added Hermione. "We've faced a troll, a three-headed dog, and Umbridge together. Hell, we've cursed Snape together. A few stupid Death Eaters and He-Who-Doesn't-Like-His-Name are nothing. We aren't going to leave you now." Then Hermione leaned over, and kissed his cheek. Harry was grateful for the show of support. True, Ron hadn't said anything, but he hadn't shouted or fled the room either.

Feeling self-conscious about being the center of attention, and wanting to escape the seriousness of their discussion, Harry offered to teach his friends some new spells he had learned. One in particular was useful if you didn't want the people around you to hear your conversation. He had Hermione step away from the group, and cast the spell. He then proceeded to tell some random knock-knock jokes for a few minutes, before canceling the spell and asking what Hermione had heard. As expected, she hadn't heard anything. Being the book-worm of the group, she wanted to know more about the spell, but Harry evasively explained that it had come from his guardian, so he didn't know much else about it. It was only later that Harry realized that none of his friends had questioned his under-age magic. Maybe they had just assumed that since the house was unplottable, the magic was untraceable? Whatever it was, he was thankful they hadn't guessed the truth – that he was untraceable.

Harry enjoyed his time with his friends, returning to the school the morning of the 31st. He and Albus had private plans for New Year's Eve. Over the summer, after Harry had realized he could project his feelings to Voldemort, they had discussed the possibility of Harry entering Voldemort's mind on purpose. As the year progressed, the topic had come up a few more times. Then, a few weeks ago, they had decided that it was a risk worth taking, but only under specific conditions. First, it had to happen at Hogwarts. In addition to the extra privacy afforded, medical aid was nearby, as it was best to be prepared for anything. Second, Harry had to have his memories of the prophecy protected, which had been done back in July using the Celo Hic Charm. Harry had used the charm to protect both the prophecy and his true guardianship. Unfortunately, Harry's memories concerning both would eventually outgrow the charm and it would fail, so time was a factor. And third, they had to know that Voldemort would be otherwise occupied, as he would be less likely to feel Harry's presence in his mind if he was concentrating on something else. Snape had informed the Headmaster two days prior that Voldemort himself was meeting with a group of rogue werewolves at the stroke of the new year. Tonight would be their best chance.

Around 11:30 that evening, Albus called Harry to their private sitting room and told him to get comfortable. Harry had stopped taking his sleeping pills a few days previous so they didn't interfere with the connection, so he hadn't been sleeping well (since Voldemort was getting anxious about his meeting), and it was starting to show. He wearily collapsed onto the couch, and Albus was struck with the thought that he looked like a snitch being held down by a single thread – one slight bump and it would break free.

He had to ask one more time, "Are you certain you wish to proceed?" The leader of the Order was pleased to have this opportunity, but the guardian of Harry Potter was worried about its effect on his psyche. He would let it be Harry's decision.

"Yes, absolutely. We need to find those other Horcruxes, and we both know this is the best way. I'm just a bit nervous." Harry stretched out on the couch with his head on a fluffy pillow, and tried to relax.

Albus moved his chair so he was close to Harry's head. "Perfectly natural, my boy. Now, just close your eyes, and search your mind for any feeling that is not your own. When you find them, no matter how faint they are, follow them back to their source. Keep listening to my voice, and you will not get lost."

Listening to Albus' soothing voice and following his instructions, Harry was able to find the foreign emotions and followed them to their source. All at once, Harry _knew_ he wasn't in his own mind anymore. If asked, he wouldn't be able to explain it, except to say that it felt uncomfortable, like wearing someone else's shoes. Once he was 'in', it was a simple matter to think of the Horcruxes, and there they were: a diary being handed to Lucius Malfoy, to be kept safe; Gaunt's ring placed on the shelf in the old cabinet, seeming to disappear into thin air; Bellatrix Lestrange cradling Hufflepuff's cup as if it were a child, vowing she will not fail him; Ravenclaw's tiara surrounded by clutter, the room's door fading after it was closed; a locket with a snake on it being dropped into a fountain in what looked like a cavern or dungeon; Nagini, slithering over the dead body of an old man lying in a doorway; himself as a baby in a crib, his mother's body lying on the floor, and green light streaking back …

**** end chapter ****

**FOR ANYONE CONFUSED:**

From Chapter 2, when Voldemort is thinking about what happened at the Ministry, he muses: _True, he hadn't gotten the prophecy, but in possessing Potter he had realized something much more valuable. He would have to rethink his plans for Potter's death._

So, when Voldemort possessed Harry, he recognized himself in the boy (and really, why wouldn't he?), and when thinking about it later, he came to the conclusion that he must have made Harry a Horcrux, so he might not want to kill the boy after all. Keep in mind, this story uses parts of HBP, but it _IS_ AU.


	22. I tell it like it used to be

**Everyone**, as you read this, keep in mind that this story _IS_ AU – it branches off canon after Chapter 2 of HBP. Kindly forget everything you think you learned after that point. And remember from earlier in the story that a 'sawol' is the piece of the soul that is put into the Horcrux.

Legal: let's just say that nothings changed since last week.

.

.

**22. I tell it like it used to be**

Harry's eyes snapped open. He jumped from the couch, and went swiftly to the window, his mind racing. _'I saw myself the way he saw me when he tried to kill me. He must think I'm a Horcrux. Am I? But the Horcruxes have to be destroyed. Does that mean I have to be destroyed?' _He slumped against the wooden frame as he pushed the window open to let the cold air hit his face.

Albus watched the boy make his flight to the window and knew he must have seen something disturbing in Tom's mind. But what? "Harry, come back to the couch," he implored. "We should discuss what you just saw, for clearly it has upset you."

Still looking out the window, Harry responded in a dead voice, "What I just saw, Professor, is myself as a Horcrux. Voldemort thinks that there is a piece of his soul inside me."

Albus was stunned; had Harry been looking, he might have laughed at the 'O' shape of Albus' mouth. He'd had no idea that Voldemort thought any such thing. As he played the facts through his mind, Albus realized that this had to be a recent development, otherwise Tom would not have been trying to kill the boy these many years. He briefly considered how this might have changed Voldemort's strategy, but now was not the time to contemplate Voldemort's mind; right now, he had some explaining to do.

Oblivious to the turmoil behind him, Harry took one last deep breath of fresh air and pulled the window shut before moving back into the room. He moved back to the couch, and as he dropped into the corner he angled his body so he could face Albus. He looked his guardian – the man he had learned to trust, the man he had come to think of as a father figure – in the eye, and quietly said. "I need to know, is he right? Am I a Horcrux?"

Albus calmly folded his hands on his lap while carefully watching the boy. Harry had seemed to deflate in the last few minutes, and looked to be struggling just to appear calm. As Albus looked at the boy who was looking back at him – fear showing in those wide green eyes – he remembered scenes from a night in June, of a dejected boy learning a horrible truth, and hoped that tonight's outcome was more favorable. What he was about to confess could lead to disaster. In the months since he had brought Harry into his home, the fragile family they had created that fateful night had strengthened into something solid, something _reliable_, but that could all end if Harry believed that Albus had intentionally kept information from him again. Just to be safe, he cast a silent protective shield on his shelf of pictures and knick knacks. He left the trinkets on the low table unprotected – before this was over Harry might need to vent a little.

To buy himself a few extra minutes to script his response, Albus busied himself pouring a cup of tea. He added a generous touch of Bozo's Best Bourbon before handing the steaming cup to Harry. The boy absentmindedly took it with a quiet thank you; for as much as he wanted an answer, he was equally afraid of what it would be, and so he allowed the Professor to take his time. Albus refreshed his own tea before leaning back and finally speaking, "A simple question, but one which does not have a simple answer, I am afraid. I admit that at one time, it was my worst fear – that you were a Horcrux. How could we possibly defeat Voldemort if the cost of doing so was your life, or even worse, your soul? It was shortly after the Chamber incident that the thought first occurred to me, but I pushed it aside. After all, until that point I was not even positive he had made a Horcrux, let alone considered plural. Over that summer, as I researched, I became convinced that the diary was a Horcrux, but also concerned that its casual handling was a strong indicator that there was indeed more than one Horcrux. Again, I thought of you, but I pushed my fear for you aside, and I started my search into the life of Tom Riddle, of which we have already discussed.

"And then, you started having those strange dreams; visions of what Voldemort was doing. My fear grew, and was getting very hard to ignore. Your visions became stronger, and I learned that you were actually able to feel his emotions at times. I felt that there was little doubt but that you were a Horcrux. In retrospect, I wonder if part of the reason I distanced myself from you last year was because I thought you might see my fear for you in my eyes."

Here, Albus paused to take a sip of his own tea. He watched Harry, who had followed his lead and was drinking his own tea, though Albus knew his boy wasn't really aware of what he was drinking. Setting his cup aside, he continued, "But Harry, as you know, everything changed that night at the Ministry. Voldemort possessed you, and it would be an understatement to say that he did not like it. After you left my office that night, or should I say morning, I stayed awake for many hours, reviewing everything I knew about Horcruxes, and everything I knew, or at least suspected, about you. And in the end, I concluded that you cannot be a Horcrux. So relax, my dear boy, for once again, Voldemort is mistaken."

Harry disagreed, shaking his head violently as he spoke, "But he thinks I am. I saw it. He thinks he made a Horcrux out of me the night. Why would he think that if he didn't?" His voice rose in pitch and volume as he spoke.

Albus waved the boy back into his seat, for he had also begun to rise as he'd spoken. "He thinks so, Harry, because he did make you a Horcrux."

Harry shook his head again, now he was even more confused. "But you just said he's mistaken, that I'm not a Horcrux. And now you say I am? Which is it?"

Albus replied, "You are no Horcrux, Harry, and if you can bear with me, I shall try to explain. This gets complicated, so please pay close attention." He waited a moment to be certain he had Harry's full attention, which he did. "I must also beg your patience, for I am only just working parts of this out for myself. Now, my guess would be that the incident at the ministry – his brief possession of you – was the impetus for his belief that you are a Horcrux. Prior to that event, there were other clues, but given the fact the he tried to kill you twice that night alone, I do not think he had yet put them together."

Albus knew Harry was about to interrupt, and he held up his hand to cut him off. "You want to know what I mean by clues, yes?" As Harry nodded, he continued, "Very well. The first clue is the connection you share with Voldemort. It is unlike any I have heard or read about, and believe me when I say that I have read more than you can possibly imagine these last few years. You should not be able to feel each others emotions simply because he failed to kill you, and he knows this. I am sure that he also found troublesome your ability to see through his eyes, which he discovered the night Nagini attacked Arthur Weasley. And of course, there is the ease in which he enters and manipulates your thoughts. These seem clear indicators that there is, at the very least, more going on than a failed killing curse."

After he had let that sink in, he continued, "Do you remember, Harry, a discussion we had years ago? We were discussing your scar, and I told you that Voldemort had transferred some of his powers to you the night he attacked. After all, neither your mother nor your father had any parseltongue abilities in their families. That ability was given to you by Voldemort himself the first time he tried to kill you. It would seem that after possessing you at the Ministry, he realized this, perhaps recognizing it as a bit of himself. Voldemort may be evil, but you cannot deny his intelligence; he would have pieced the clues together, and come to the only conclusion that would make sense to him, that when his body was destroyed, a piece of his soul, which had already been split many times and was therefore unstable, was inadvertently separated from his body, and attached itself to the strongest object in the room, that being you."

Harry interrupted, "So I am a Horcrux. Then why did you just say that I'm not?"

"Because that is what I believe. Think, Harry. What happened when Voldemort possessed you? Why do you think he gave up so quickly?"

Harry let his mind drift back to a memory that he had tried very hard to bury. "He couldn't stand to be inside me at the Ministry. You said so yourself, that it was painful for him, that he had to leave my body because he couldn't stand all that love."

Albus continued, "And that is true. That is what makes this such a hard concept to grasp. You, Mr. Potter, are a paradox. It seems clear, from the clues I have already mentioned, that Voldemort had to literally give you a piece of himself that night, albeit unintentionally. That is the only explanation that fits all of the clues. And yet, at the same time, it is equally clear that you cannot possibly be harboring a piece of something that tainted, that evil, and still have remained so pure of heart yourself. Do you understand the paradox? Do you see the answer?"

Harry hung his head. "No Sir, I'm afraid I don't."

"As you have just pointed out, Voldemort could not stand to possess you – in other words, to be inside your body and mind – for more than a few minutes. It was excruciatingly painful for him. So how could a part of him have remained inside you for nearly 16 years? Would it not have shriveled and died, much the way Professor Quirrell's body did when you were eleven?"

Harry was surprised, "It could do that? I thought that you had to destroy the Horcrux to get rid of the soul inside?"

Albus nodded, something he felt he would do a lot of this night. "Harry, did we destroy the ring? No, we did not. It may have been damaged, but it is still a ring. And think back, was the diary not still a book, albeit one with a rather large hole in it? As you can see, if care is used, the vessel may be damaged, but need not be totally destroyed. So while it would be easiest to get rid of a living Horcrux by killing it, there are other ways."

Harry started to understand. "OK, so you are saying that a piece of him used to be there, but it couldn't survive inside me, and what, it died but I didn't? But doesn't the fact that we still have this mental connection mean that the sawol is still there?"

"Not at all, Harry," Albus replied. "Let us examine this mental connection you have with Voldemort. It simply should not exist, yet it does. Why? Most likely, it was forged when he gave you a piece of his soul. But does that have to mean that you still have the sawol? Or could it simply be a residual effect? Think of a flood, Harry. As the flood water recedes, it leaves behind the things it carried with it; fish, debris, and whatnot. So even with the carrier – the sawol inside you – gone, the powers it carried with it remain."

Harry asked, "So the powers he gave me are separate from the sawol, and they stayed after the sawol was destroyed, and the mental connection is tied to the powers, not the sawol, so it also remains?"

"Not precisely, but close. First, it is, perhaps, more correct to say that he only _shared_ his powers with you, for he clearly still retains them inside himself. That being the case, there is another explanation for this connection you share. It is possible that the connection is nothing more than the physical manifestation of you sharing his abilities in Legilimency. We may never know which is the case, but suffice it to say, the connection by itself cannot prove that you are a Horcrux since there is another reasonable explanation for it."

Harry interrupted again, "Wait a minute, you've mentioned powers, in the plural. Up to this point, the only power of his that I was aware I had was the parseltongue. You think I can use Legilimency?"

Albus considered for a moment how best to answer. "It is one of his powers, so it stands to reason. I suspect that you have, on occasion and unintentionally, I am sure, used Legilimency. Perhaps during class, when you were desperate for an answer? Legilimency, unlike Occlumency, is not influenced by our emotions, and would be much easier for you to master, after your schooling is complete of course. There are other powers, but for our discussion they are irrelevant."

"Fair enough, Sir," Harry said. "But back to the Horcrux idea, how can you be sure the sawol was destroyed?"

Albus considered how best to proceed, finally saying, "Let me ask you this, Harry. Are you evil?" He waited while Harry gave him an indignant look, and then continued. "Fear not, I ask for a reason. Over the years, you have been able to access the powers that were passed to you with the sawol. So then, why haven't you turned evil? For surely, there would be great evil in any piece of Voldemort's soul, for he is evil, make no mistake about that. One must only recall the diary to understand. It was not full of love and good intentions, was it? No, it was the evil in the diary that possessed Miss Weasley, that allowed her to use Tom Riddle's parseltongue ability to open the Chamber. The evil and the powers went hand-in-hand, and she could not have one without being influenced by the other. But in her case it was true possession, and so when the sawol was forced out, none of its abilities remained."

He paused again to let that sink in, another thing he knew he would be doing tonight, and then continued. "So, would it not stand to reason that if the sawol is still inside you, containing both his evil and his powers, that you should have access to both?" Here Albus leaned forward to emphasize his next point. "And yet you, Harry, are pure of heart. I do not believe that you even have the capacity to be evil. And given the less than desirable environment you were raised in, that is nothing short of amazing. Do you remember getting the stone from the Mirror of Erised? To do so, you had to want to get the stone, but not want to use it. I told you then that it was a rare wizard that could accomplish such a feat. I do not think you have ever appreciated just how rare. Could evil survive, day after day, year after year, inside something – someone – so full of goodness? The answer is simply, it could not."

Harry wasn't sure, and it showed on his face as he spoke. "I understand what you are saying, but I'm still not convinced. As much as I want to believe, what happens if I do, and you are wrong? Greater mistakes, and all that, Sir."

Albus leaned back again. He could see Harry's point, but he knew he was not mistaken in this. "Fair enough. Let us explore this from another angle. I am correct, I think, in stating that you are aware you have a rather strong reaction to Dementors. When you encountered them for the first time, you fainted from the experience. Yet Ginevra Weasley, who had been possessed and nearly killed by Tom Riddle a mere three months prior, did not react as strongly. Is it possible that you react so strongly because you have 'more soul' than a normal person? I suppose it is. But this too has its problems, for any sawol of Voldemort's would surely not contain any happy memories for the Dementors to steal. In fact, a sawol created from the rebounded killing curse would contain one overpowering negative memory, that of being ripped from itself. So could the Dementors even be drawn to it? In this case, your guess would be as good as mine, though I suspect they would both be in the negative.

He continued. "So we must consider if there is any other explanations for your unusually strong reaction. There is of course the obvious – that you have simply led a harder life than most. And also I wonder, do you and Voldemort share the same worst memory? Most likely you do, I think. Being defeated by a toddler and losing ones body cannot have been what one would call a good experience. And so, in a way, your worst memory has twice the power of other people's. As you and Voldemort share this memory, and therefore the negative emotions that go with it, its effect on you would be 'double' a normal effect. So again, our evidence as to the continued existence of a sawol inside you is inconclusive."

Harry, who had been looking out the window, turned back to Albus. "No offense, Sir, but you seem to be going in circles.

"I do at that. It is called 'playing devil's advocate', and I am quite good at it, as Professor Snape can no doubt attest. By all means, continue with your questions, and we shall see if you can puncture any holes in my theory. Would you care to throw my Pinking Shaker? It might make you feel better." Albus added this last part as he casually pointed to the small pink object sitting on the table by Harry.

"Er, no thank you," Harry answered, turning red as he did so. "I think I got that all out of my system last year. Sorry about that, by the way. I do have another question, though. If it was still inside me, would I be able to feel it?"

Albus replied, "A piece of soul is a bit different than, say, a tumor. You cannot physically feel it. But if you are asking if you would somehow be able to perceive it, I think not. If you are harboring an unwanted guest, so to speak, you would have done so since the age of one. To you, it would be normal because it would be all you have ever known. But again, I do not believe this is the case." He paused as he thought of a new approach. "Perhaps it would be helpful to look at this from yet another perspective. Tell me about being possessed, Harry. How did you feel? Were you aware?"

Harry blinked, and tilted his head to the side as he thought for a minute. "Well, it hurt. A lot. My scar felt worse than it had ever felt before. When he used me to speak to you, I could feel my mouth moving, but knew I wasn't doing it. And I just … I wanted it to end." Harry felt his face turn red with shame as he admitted this. "When he told you to kill me, I wanted you to do it so the pain would stop. That's when I thought of seeing Sirius again, and that's when he left me."

Albus nodded, quietly saying, "I understand." And he did. Harry hadn't truly wanted death, but he was so desperate for relief from the pain that he would have welcomed it as his only escape. He pushed forward, as much to continue their discussion as to avoid the painful topic. "Now, has Miss Weasley ever described her experiences to you?"

"Yes, last Christmas, when I thought he was possessing me." At this, Albus raised an eyebrow, as if in question. "The snake, Sir. When I told you what I saw, you hadn't really explained what happened, you just sort of played with that silver thing. And then, when you looked at me just as we were leaving, I felt this hatred rise up inside me. So later, when I overheard Mad-Eye Moody saying that he thought Voldemort was possessing me, I believed it. At least, until Ginny set me straight by describing what it had been like for her. Her experience was nothing like mine. She didn't feel any pain. She wasn't aware at all. Just the opposite of me, really."

Albus nodded along to this new information. "Now do you see what I mean? It was Voldemort that possessed her, the same as you. The pain, or in her case lack thereof, is easily explained. You felt not only your own pain, but the pain that Voldemort felt, trying to co-exist with your mother's sacrificial love. He mistakenly thought that because he could now physically touch you, that your mother's love could no longer affect him, a miscalculation I am sure he regrets. Far more telling, I think, is Miss Weasley's lack of awareness. You maintained awareness, which I believe indicates that you were not completely under his possession. But if a piece of his soul did in fact reside inside you, it should have made his possession of you easier, not harder. It is certainly easy enough for him to possess Nagini."

Instead of responding, Harry forced himself to replay those awful minutes at the Ministry when the monster was inside him. He pushed aside the remembered pain and concentrated on _himself_, and with sudden clarity, he knew that Albus was right. He had never lost his awareness; he had felt himself being bound, had known he was a prisoner in his own mind and body, had begged for death even. He _had_ known what was happening the entire time, but was that as important a clue as Albus believed?

Albus sat in silence while Harry lost himself in his thoughts, watching as his boy struggled to make sense of all the information. At some point during the lull of the conversation, Fawkes had flown across the room and had landed beside Harry's knee. Harry had begun lightly stroking the great bird, and Fawkes gifted Harry with a few notes, which they both drew strength from. Watching the interaction, Albus commented, "Fawkes certainly seems to like you, Harry. He does not make it a habit to sing for everyone."

"I know, Sir, and the feeling is quite mutual. He's been a friend ever since he saved my life in the Chamber. I don't like to think about how close I was to dying." Harry shuddered as he recalled, "Riddle knew it, too. He said he was going to stand there and watch me die. He was really mad when Fawkes healed the bite."

At that, Albus questioned "bite, Harry?"

"The basilisk. You remember, when I stabbed it with the sword, one of its fangs broke off in my arm. I can't remember if there was much pain, I just remember everything was getting dark. And Fawkes came over, and cried on my arm, and it was better."

Albus smiled. "I had forgotten that detail. An unfortunate side-effect of having too many things on ones mind. You were poisoned by basilisk venom; which is one of the few things that can destroy a Horcrux, or more accurately the sawol inside the Horcrux, for as we've already discussed, the vessel itself need not be destroyed. Harry, this strengthens my argument. Presuming that you were still a Horcrux at that time, could the sawol have survived the basilisk venom? I find that to be highly unlikely. Fawkes' tears will heal you, a friend, but would have been like poison to the evil in Voldemort's sawol. You remember Voldemort's reaction to the phoenix song in the cemetery do you not? That reaction added to the venom would have been a lethal combination that his sawol could not have survived."

Harry felt the sudden urge to laugh, and couldn't stop a bit from escaping. "I think my head is spinning. Has anyone ever told you that you have a dizzying intellect, Sir?"

"I have heard it said on more occasions than I care to count" said Albus, who couldn't help but chuckle himself. "And you, my dear boy, are one of the few wizards ever afforded the opportunity to say so to my face." He sobered as he added, "Do you understand now, Harry?"

Harry looked at Albus, unconsciously moving again to the edge of his seat. "I think so. There is evidence that Voldemort made a Horcrux out of me when his killing curse rebounded. But there is equal evidence that I am no longer a Horcrux. I want to believe that, I really do."

Albus refilled his teacup, then set it to cool while he continued. "Harry, I truly believe that you _were_ a Horcrux, but the sawol inside you was destroyed, most likely within the first 24 hours. I do not know if you were aware, but you were not delivered to your Aunt's house until the following evening. I remember being told that you were unusually fussy, and had a bit of a fever, at the time. We even had you checked for a possible concussion. I think it most likely that the sawol itself could not co-exist with the love of your mother which flowed within your veins. The sawol, and its evil, would not have stood a chance against love so strong it deflected a killing curse; that ten years later was still able to repel Voldemort's simple touch. It was utterly destroyed, and all that was left behind were his powers – that which helped to make you his equal. In short, you were a Horcrux, but now you are not."

Harry leaned back into the couch. He had been horrified at the idea that he was ever a Horcrux. On one hand, he was relieved that Albus believed he no longer was, for he really didn't want to be destroyed (and he didn't see much distinction between destroyed and damaged), in order to defeat Voldemort. But on the other hand, if he was wrong … There seemed to be so much at stake. He felt he had to ask "You're sure?"

"As sure as I can be. That is why I have never brought this particular subject up with you before. I honestly thought it was a non-factor, something that was in the past and no longer had any bearing on the present situation." Albus was relieved to see Harry nodding again, which indicated he understood. Knowing that he needed to do something to help Harry believe, he came to a brash decision. "We do not have to rely on my skill at deduction, Harry. There is a simple way to test it. You can attempt to create your own Horcrux. Since you have never murdered, your soul is still whole. As such, you should fail. However, if you have a piece of soul inside you that is already separate from your own soul, it will move into the Horcrux. So, you shall attempt to create a Horcrux, and then, just to give you added piece of mind, we can even destroy it. How does that sound?"

Harry was shocked. "You would do that for me," he asked, "help me create a Horcrux? Wait, isn't that dark magic? I don't need anymore trouble with the Ministry."

"Nor I, Harry, nor I. And in this instance, I don't think it would qualify as 'dark', since you will have committed no murder, and you certainly have no intent to mutilate your soul. Tomorrow morning, after breakfast, you will kindly lead us into the Chamber. I will teach you the spell, which you must vow to never reveal to another being, living or otherwise. You will create your Horcrux, we will destroy it, and we need never worry about this again. Agreed?"

"Agreed," Harry replied, relieved that this whole nightmare would be resolved by this time tomorrow. He picked up his tea, cold though it was, and drank what was left in one gulp. He immediately sputtered, having forgotten the bourbon that Albus had added. He looked up to see his professor chuckling, and Harry decided to lighten the mood of the room. "I think I prefer Firewhisky, Professor. Now, can we get back to those powers you mentioned. We know I'm a parselmouth, and you think I can do Legilimency. No comment on whether or not I have in the past, by the way. What else is there?"

"There are two other powers that Tom Riddle enjoys of which I am aware. First, and you should already know this, he can possess the bodies of others. In fact, this was the one ability he retained after his body had been destroyed. But I think we can agree that you have no need to test this particular ability." After receiving Harry's agreement, Albus' eyes took on their familiar twinkle. "And second, he can look directly at the sun, or other exceptionally bright lights. This is helpful for viewing an eclipse, or should one wish to become a muggle welder."

Harry couldn't believe what he had heard. "That's ridiculous. What kind of power is that?"

"Not all powers are awe inspiring, Harry. Why, my old friend Evand Aniel, for example, would feel wet when it was raining in the Brazilian rainforests, which is unfortunate as it rains there quite often."

Harry eyed his headmaster suspiciously. "I'm sure there is a lesson in there somewhere," said Harry. "Be careful what you wish for, or maybe never look a gift horse in the mouth. I'm sure I can work it out."

"You do that, and let me know what you come up with. For Evand, the lesson was always carry a towel. Now I see it is getting late, or should I say early. We should call it a night, as we have a busy morning planned."

Harry and Albus bid each other good night, and happy new year, and retreated to their bedrooms, each anxious to begin their next family adventure.

**** end chapter ****

**Notes:** So, um, I warned you at the beginning of the chapter, so you shouldn't be _too_ surprised. Before DH came out, I constantly went back and forth on the whole 'Harry's a Horcrux' thing, because both sides made sense, so I thought, what if both sides are right? I hope you weren't too confused. It was hard to explain everything while keeping Albus in character, and he loves to make you work it out on your own, doesn't he?

I have to mention that my 'create a Horcrux' scenario was adapted from Melindaleo's story (others also used it, but I heard it from her first). I have added a twist that I think is original - creating a non-Horcrux to prove Harry wasn't one. Oh yeah, there was also a quote from the Princess Bride in there somewhere.

I also have to acknowledge that Evand Aniel is actually my son, Evan Daniel, in disguise. The elephant that appears in the next chapter is at his request.


	23. An elephant, a Dark Lord and a Minister

Legal: I don't own … blah, blah, blah … Harry Potter.

.

.

**23. An elephant, a Dark Lord and a Minister walk into a bar …**

Neither Albus nor Harry set their alarm, as they had had a rather late night. So when they woke, it was late enough that they opted for a light brunch in their apartment. It was a quiet meal; Albus was mentally planning the day's adventure while Harry's head was still spinning from last night's unsettling discussion – '_He made me a Horcrux, the bastard!'_ Even after thinking about it all night, for he hadn't really been able to sleep, he wasn't sure what to believe. But today's trip into the Chamber was going to make it a moot point. By supper time, he would be able to say, without a shadow of doubt, that he was not a Horcrux.

Albus was the first to finish eating, and he looked over the Daily Prophet (Is Scrimgeour doing enough?) while he calmly waited for a fidgeting Harry to finish. When Harry dropped his fork in defeat onto his half-eaten plate of food, Albus set aside the paper and addressed the nervous young man. "Before we begin, if you have no objection, I would like to view your memory of last night's vision. If you are so agreeable, we can make use of my pensieve, or I can use Legilimency."

Harry internally debated which would be the lesser of the two evils. "Well, if you can be a bit, er, gentler than Professor Snape was, Legilimency seems easier."

"Understandable choice, given your history with pensieves," Albus replied. Although his tone hadn't changed, Harry thought he sensed some disappointment in the older man, and he decided it would be best to address the issue.

"I suppose that you know about me going into Professor Snape's memories?" Albus said nothing, but the look on his face clearly revealed that he did know of the incident, so Harry continued, "I know I should have learned my lesson after going into your memories, but I couldn't help myself. I was just so desperate to know what was going on. I know that doesn't excuse it; I don't know, maybe you think that makes it worse, that I was trying to find out Order business. I did try to tell Professor Snape I was sorry – at least I think I did, it all happened rather fast. But I never told anyone what I saw; well, except Sirius and Remus, but that was only to ask them about my Dad, about how he had acted." Harry finally stopped rambling, and dropped his head in shame as he remembered his crime. He knew how it felt to have someone looking through one's memories, he's had it happen enough during Occlumency lessons that he really should have stopped himself. He had just felt so out of control last year, and had often acted recklessly in an attempt to gain control.

Albus decided to end his suffering, "While I cannot speak for Professor Snape, be assured that I have forgiven your transgression. But one would hope that you have finally learned from your mistakes, and that it _will not occur again_." Albus looked at Harry over his glasses, which was always a sign that he was in his 'authority figure' role. Harry didn't hesitate to promise that he would never do it again.

"Very well, than I shall consider the topic closed. Now, why don't you make yourself comfortable and face me. Concentrate on what you saw last night." When Harry had scooted his chair away from the table and indicated he was ready, Albus moved directly in front of Harry, and grasped Harry's hands in his own as he gazed into Harry's eyes. He watched as Harry 'remembered' the vision, going through the entire scene twice before announcing that he was done and moving back to his seat.

Harry blinked twice, not believing what he heard, for he had been expecting a forceful rampage like he had always felt with Snape. "That was nothing like Professor Snape, I could barely tell you were there!" Not noticing the cloud that fell over Albus' face, he eagerly continued, "And you think I can do that?"

Albus pushed aside the reminder of Severus' harsh handling of his student, instead smiling as he replied, "when you are older, Harry, you may learn. You did an admirable job of finding the information we needed last night, and I have no doubt you will be an excellent Legilimens."

Harry beamed; the novelty of being praised instead of ridiculed by his guardian had yet to wear off. Then, remembering something he had thought of this morning, he asked, "Professor, this whole thing with me being, or having been, a Horcrux – how does this affect your theory on multiple Horcruxes? Does this mean there were only five made, not six?"

Albus leaned back in his chair, deciding to explain his reasoning. "I do not believe that this changes anything. When you were made a Horcrux, it was quite by accident. And as we discussed, he did not know of it until just this past summer, and so would not have known to count you. His quest, we believe, was to have a 7-piece soul. And so, if our hypothesis is correct, then before he went to Godric's Hollow, he had already made five Horcruxes: the diary, the ring, the cup, the locket, and as we now know, the tiara. I believe he was planning to make the sixth and final Horcrux with your murder. If I recall correctly, there was a partially destroyed Hogwarts shield in the wreckage that I did not remember your parents owning." Albus grew silent for a moment as he remembered the scene he had found when he had arrived at the Potter's destroyed home. Seeming to shake himself, he continued, "In any event, as he was planning to make one that night, he would have no doubt already cast the first of two spells necessary. And as he had just committed a murder (two, in fact) his soul would have already been split."

Albus watched as Harry's face lost its color and his hands took on a slight trembling. He leaned over to Harry and grasped those hands in his own, giving the boy a chance to regain his composure. "Forgive me, child. I know that this is a rather upsetting topic for you. Please know that I find no joy in discussing the deaths of James and Lily in such a clinical manner."

Once he had his emotions under control, Harry spoke. "One thing I don't understand. You said 'first spell'. What did you mean?"

"To create a Horcrux takes more than just a murder, although sadly that is a key component. As you know, murder can be spontaneous; the so-called crime of passion. But to create a Horcrux takes forethought, for you must be prepared and have sought out the necessary spells. Two spells in fact. The first is cast by the wizard upon himself. This spell, which you will not be performing, prepares the body so that once split, the piece of soul will be able to separate from the body. It must be performed close to the time of the murder, normally before, but it can be after. This is what allowed Voldemort to create your Horcrux – he cast the spell within close proximity to a murder, just not the murder he intended. Thus, his body was prepared to release a piece of his soul. And so, when his curse rebounded and destroyed his own body, the sawol was released as it had been prepared to do. And, not having been directed to any specific object, as the second spell had not been cast, it was drawn to the most powerful thing in the room, namely you."

He continued, "What we are interested in today is the step that Voldemort was unable to complete; the spell that removes the sawol from the body and directs it to the object. This is the spell you will cast. And if by some remote chance there is still a sawol inside you, it will move to the chosen object, as it is already separate from your body."

He paused to let Harry process what had been said. "But I have strayed from answering your question, which I believe concerned the exact number of Horcruxes created. So, where was I? Ah yes, Voldemort and his plan to make his sixth Horcrux with your murder. As history has recorded, his killing curse was rebounded, rendering him unable to finish his task. So, as far as he was concerned, at least until the happenings at the Ministry, he had failed and was therefore one short, leading him to create what he thought was number six by killing Mr. Bryce." Albus hesitated before he added, "But you should have already known the answer, my boy. We know we are correct regarding the number of Horcruxes, for you saw them all for yourself just last night."

An embarrassed Harry muttered "oh, right," shifting uncomfortably in his seat. _'how thick could I be?' _ Eventually he looked up again to ask a question that was hopefully not as stupid, "Wait a minute, why did he use some random old man, and a Muggle to boot, to make the last Horcrux? Didn't he 'reserve the privilege' for special murders?"

"Normally, yes. Perhaps he did regard it as a significant murder, for he was probably overjoyed to be able to use his wand again. But desperation does strange things to a man. He had been without a body for thirteen years. Most likely, the first time he was able to wield his wand and had a victim, he made his move so as to be done with it. Note how he used his snake, a living and thinking creature, which was certainly not the wisest choice for a Horcrux. It is even possible that he was concerned that without the sixth Horcrux, he was still vulnerable – that only with the 7-part soul would he be truly invincible."

"That's crazy," Harry sputtered.

"I do not imagine Voldemort is on anyone's 'sanest wizard alive' list, do you? Now, shall we go?" Albus rose and, picking up a small statue of two elephants, led Harry from the room.

As the students weren't due to return for four more days, this time there was thankfully no one to question the two as they entered a certain girl's restroom. A short time later the duo was again standing in front of the large, forboding statue, and Albus carefully placed the elephants on the floor. The sculpture – two elephants facing each other, trunks intertwined – was made of brass, and was about five inches tall. It looked even smaller and rather fragile surrounded by the dark, oversized carvings in the chamber.

Suddenly nervous, and wanting to stall for time, Harry blurted out, "Do you think there is still venom in that fang?"

Albus looked to the fang lying on the pedestal they had used last time. "Doubtful. Most likely, we used the last bit in destroying the ring. Lucky for us, basilisks have two sets of fangs," …"yeah, lucky", Harry mumbled … "so we have three more we can use before we need to worry ourselves with trying to harvest venom from its sacks. I am sure Professor Snape would appreciate if we saved those for him." Albus had continued as if he hadn't heard Harry's comment, though he obviously had. "You know, Harry, a heartfelt apology is more believable when it is accompanied by the proverbial olive branch. For a master of potions, a gift of rare and valuable potion ingredients could be considered as such."

Albus, Harry noted, was looking at him over the rims of his glasses again. _'I knew this would come up again.'_ "Yes, well, I suppose you are right, and I should try to apologize again about the pensieve." Harry doubted that Albus had failed to miss the fact that he didn't actually say he _would_ apologize, yet his uncanny luck held as Albus decided to let the subject drop so they could get to the business at hand.

Getting to business, Albus spoke. "Before we cast anything, I want you to practice the spell a few times, so why don't you put your wand away for the time being. Now, this spell has no name, those few who know of it simply refer to it as the second Horcrux spell. The incantation is 'delego sawol insum' followed by the name of the target object."

Harry nodded. "OK, delgo sawol isum, er, elephants?"

"Close. Del-e-go sawol in-sum elephants, and please refrain from adding the extra syllable, as I do not know what affect that would have on the spell."

Harry ran through the pronunciation several times until Albus felt confident that Harry would not make any mistakes. Then he had Harry stand about five feet away from the unlucky elephants and taught him the wand movement, which was to point his wand at his own heart as he said the first two words, then quickly move his wand to point at the elephants. After a few tries, Albus declared them ready.

Harry took a deep breath, positioned his wand, and loudly performed the spell. "Delego sawol insum elephants!" There was a rush of air around the chamber, and Harry felt a pressure in his chest as his body trembled. A white light surrounded – but did not penetrate – the elephants before it faded away. When Harry felt his body return to normal, he looked to Albus.

"Interesting. It appears that you cast the spell correctly, for your body certainly tried to expel _something _to the statue. Yet you will note that there was no corresponding effect on the statue. I believe this confirms that there was nothing to be moved. You no doubt noticed that the light that emerged from your body was white and not black. Black of course being the color we saw when the sawol escaped from the ring. But we will finish this, to give you peace of mind."

Albus picked up the little statue and handed it to Harry, who noticed that it didn't feel any different than it had before, and that he didn't feel any different holding it. He placed the elephants on the pedestal, and stood back as Albus calmly stepped up and with precision plunged a new fang into the statue. Harry would not have believed that the fang would be able to penetrate the brass, but he would have been wrong. The moment the fang touched the brass, on the head of one of the elephants, it released its venom, which burned into the brass. There was a hissing sound, and a clear steam arose. When Albus removed the fang, the steam cleared to reveal that one of the elephants had melted into an unrecognizable blob. He reached over and carefully grasped the remaining elephant, which easily broke from the blob, and handed it to Harry.

"For you, Harry. A memento, if you will. A symbol that your soul is pure; that _you_ are pure and are no longer tainted by Voldemort's soul." Albus put a comforting arm around the young man.

"It wasn't the same as the ring. I really wasn't a Horcrux anymore, was I?" Harry asked in quiet disbelief. He could feel his eyes tearing up, but didn't understand why, and thankfully no tears fell.

Although it was whispered, Albus had heard every word, and replied, "No, you weren't. But your peace of mind was worth this price. How are you feeling?"

Harry had to take a moment before he could answer; there was a lot to sort out. "Relieved, happy … tired maybe, a little scared now that I understand – really understand – just how much evil he has done, but I also feel better about our chances at succeeding, _because_ I understand him better. If that makes any sense." Harry chuckled as he pulled away from Albus. "And now I realize that I need to apologize to Hermione, for ever doubting that one person could feel so many emotions at one time, and probably Cho as well, for not believing she had so much going on."

At Albus' questioning look, Harry launched into his story. The two made their way back to the bottom of the pipe as Harry shared the tale of his first and wettest kiss, and the resulting conversation with Hermione regarding girls, and feelings, and such. This lead to Albus telling Harry about _his_ first kiss, something that Harry both found fascinating yet could have lived without hearing. Albus noticed the odd look on Harry's face, and assuming it was due to the 'low' of feeling emotionally drained, dropped his tale (and it was just getting to the best part, in his opinion) and transported them back up the pipe with a neat spell he had found for just such an occasion. Back in Myrtle's room, Albus sent Harry to his dorm for a much-needed nap before dinner.

In the empty dorm room, Harry found a safe spot on his bedside table for the now-deformed elephant. It would become one of his prized possessions; it symbolized not only his freedom from Voldemort's soul, but also just how much his guardian loved him, for any lingering doubts of Albus' love had died today along with the other half of the statue.

-000-

As Harry was settling down for his nap, The Wizard Formerly Known as Tom Riddle was sitting in his throne room contemplating his grand scheme, and how it seemed to be going wrong. Specifically, he was thinking about a meddlesome old goat name Dumbledore, and just what a pain he had become. Like with the Potter boy being removed, no doubt by Dumbledore's command, from his muggle family and hidden who knows where. He had been _so close _to circumventing the mother's protection! He had researched for over a year, certain that he could find a way around it since he now had Potter's blood. And just when he finally found the ritual that would amplify the blood enough to allow him access to Privet Drive, that blasted article appeared announcing to the world that Potter had been moved. Did he care that Potter might have been misused? Certainly not, although it had reminded just how much alike they were. No, the implied abuse was definitely not what upset the Dark Lord.

It was that his perfect plan had once again been ruined. And worse, Snape claimed he had no knowledge of where the brat was living or even who the new guardians were. Oh, he had been able to confirm that the child hadn't been moved to their 'headquarters', and that the Weasley's (blood traitors that they were) hadn't taken him in. Well, that only left every other member of Dumbledore's precious Order as suspects, now didn't it? If only he had just killed the boy in that graveyard instead of playing with him.

But again, knowing what he now knew, that would have been a mistake. The diary had been destroyed, yet another strike against Malfoy, leaving him one Horcrux short. But with the discovery about Harry (how he hated the sound of such a common name), he again had his 7-piece soul. Seven was the most magical number. He, Lord Voldemort, with his seven part soul, was now the most magical wizard alive.

But he digressed. Right now, he needed to solve the Malfoy problem. He had never expected the foolish boy to succeed. In fact, he had planned to kill pompous little brat in front of his arrogant father as punishment for both of their incompetence. But then the boy's mother had all but begged Severus for help, and that fool (he seemed to be surrounded by them) had made an Unbreakable Vow to finish the task if Draco couldn't. That part wasn't the dilemma, although he had yet to decide how to punish Narcissa and Bellatrix for their part. No, the problem, as he saw it, was happened to Snape. Honestly, he didn't believe Severus could succeed either, unless he was fortunate enough to find Dumbledore unarmed, incapacitated, and probably unwilling to fight back to boot. Like that would ever happen.

No, if (when) Draco failed, Severus would have to try, and he too would fail. In reality, Snape would be lost to Voldemort either way, for if the Vow didn't kill him, he wouldn't exactly be able to just walk away after attempting to murder The Leader of the Light. So what it all came down to was whether or not he should try to get Snape out of the Vow.

After much contemplation, he finally decided not to interfere. On one hand, he was curious if Snape had been smart enough to either give himself or find himself a loophole. Someone of that cunning was definitely an asset, and would be rewarded. On the other hand, should the Vow do him in, well, that was the price he would pay for daring to interfere in his Lord's plans.

But what of Draco Malfoy's plan? It seemed the boy had actually stumbled across a way to bring his Death Eaters into the school that might actually work. When Voldemort had tossed the possibility of an invasion out, it had been on a lark. He hadn't even been speaking to the boy, but to his dear Bella, and he had never imagined the child would actually attempt such a feat. It seemed junior had more daring, and maybe even more brains, than his Lord had given him credit for. But an invasion could lead to a battle, and only a fool, which _he_ was not, would believe that Potter would sit quietly on the sidelines. More likely, Potter would jump into the fray with no thought for his own safety.

That could cause a problem, because Potter had to be kept safe.

Although, he reminded himself, Dumbledore no doubt already had a plan for just such a possibility, perhaps even trying to force the boy to hide in such an event. He almost smiled as he pictured the old man stuffing the brat into a closet, or maybe forcing a spiked lemon drop on him. But in reality, the dear Headdmaster would never do that. Hadn't Severus told him that Dumbledore had never once tried to dissuade the boy from any of his exploits? Granted, Snape wasn't exactly impartial when it came to Potter, but he rather believed him in this instance. It seemed Dumbledore was a contradiction – he wanted to protect the boy, yet also allowed him to put himself in danger time and again.

That was an interesting thought. Why did Dumbledore want to keep the boy safe? Was it guilt over failing to protect the parents, or because of that blasted prophecy? (If only there was some way to learn its content; but no, he wasn't going to get upset over that again.) The real question was how deep this protection ran. If Dumbledore knew that little Harry was part of the Big Bad Dark Lord's immorality, how would he react? Would he decide that the boy had to be destroyed, sacrificed for the greater good? Oh, how he would enjoy seeing Dumbledore try to solve that conundrum. Too bad he couldn't take the risk. If the old man knew the truth about Potter, he might grow suspicious. After all, he was probably already suspicious of the diary (yet another failing of Malfoy's); knowing about Horcrux Harry might cause him to piece it together. And too, no matter how much fun it would be to watch Dumbledore try to excuse the death of their Chosen One to the Wizarding World, he needed Potter alive to maintain his 7-part soul. How ironic that he, Lord Voldemort himself, was about to become Potter's greatest protector.

In truth, he hadn't originally planned to combine capturing Potter with the attempt on Dumbledore (or dare he say, Dumbledore's murder?). But young Draco had unwittingly found the perfect way for him to do so. It would take careful planning, for few of his followers could truly be trusted to bring him the boy unharmed, as Bella had proven this summer.

He settled further into the throne, feeling better now that he had thought it through. Draco's task, whether Dumbledore actually died or not, would be a success. If Dumbledore was killed, his path was clear to take over the Ministry. If Malfoy the younger failed, he would still get his revenge on Lucius, and Severus was waiting in the wings for another go at the old fool. And regardless of that outcome, he would be able to grab the boy from school, thus eliminating the need to find his new guardian – a task that was proving much more difficult than he had anticipated.

He casually waved his wand, and a parchment with quill and ink appeared on his table. He scanned the list, and touched a few items with his wand, making them disappear from the list. Then he carefully added: get rid of Slughorn, choose Death Eaters to seize Potter, and figure out long-term plan for holding the boy. As an afterthought he added: find someone to help Malfoy fix that cabinet.

Thus decided, he sent Wormtail with a directive for Draco Malfoy, informing him that the invasion, and Dumbledore's subsequent murder, would take place on May 26th. It would not do to wait until the end of the school year as Dumbledore would no doubt be expecting something then. His plans did tend to come to head in June, a predictability he wanted to avoid, so instead he had picked an arbitrary date. Since it had no significance, people would have no reason to be any more cautious than normal. Complacency would be his ally. The invasion would occur, and Potter would be his. Of course, Draco would not know that part of the plan yet, only that further instructions would be forthcoming.

That settled, the Dark Lord relaxed for a moment with a glass of wine, contentedly rubbing Nagini's head with his free hand. It felt good to know that, this time, Potter would be his. Finally returning his attention to his list, he read the next item – assassinate the Minister. Yes, he had much planning to do.

-000-

As the dinner hour came and went, said Minister was sitting behind his desk, looking over one of the many reports that had appeared there since yesterday, but his heart wasn't in it. Truth be told, he had come to the Ministry today precisely because, since it was a holiday, it would be relatively quiet and empty. No muggle government idiot demanding an update, no Weasley kissing up, and definitely no Fudge bumbling everything he touched.

Things had been going so well for him, 'had' being the key word. Until today, the _Daily Prophet_ seemed to be his best cheerleaders. They had been more than willing to carry articles about arrests and successful missions. So what if the Ministry had yet to prove that more than one of those arrested was actually connected the You-Know-Who or his Death Eaters? Or explain what it meant by 'successful'? The _Prophet_ didn't question, they just ran the stories they were fed. Until today. Now, they were questioning why there were many arrests, but only one conviction; if using five Aurors for a raid that only revealed one dark artifact was the best use of manpower; and worst of all, if Harry Potter was the Chosen One, as had been claimed, what was the administration doing to help the boy.

Blast it all! When he had dreamed up the whole 'Chosen One' campaign, it had been the ideal plan. It elevated the boy, who the public was once again in love with, giving everyone hope that You-Know-Who could and would be defeated. He had insured that 'unnamed high ranking officials in the administration' had implied to the reporters that the Minister was in direct contact with the boy. But then that story about his relatives had broke, and he had had to do some fancy storytelling to cover-up his own surprise. It wouldn't do for the Minister to be uninformed about the Savior, after all.

What he really needed was to find Potter's new guardians, and cozy up to them. Either that, or get them declared unfit. He really wasn't picky, as long as he gained access to the boy. His brilliant plan to do so on Christmas day had backfired. Percy 'have I kissed your arse today?' Weasley had assured him that Potter always spent Christmas with his younger brother, and that this year the whole family would be at the homestead for the holiday. The surprise visit Christmas day had been a bust, for Potter hadn't even been there when he and Percy had arrived, and the ensuing argument between Weasley and his brothers had been a disaster. Then, on the return visit two days later, ostensibly so Percy could apologize, the place had been completely empty.

He was really starting to regret the whole 'Chosen One' campaign. What he needed now was a better plan; some way to get the _Prophet_, and therefore the public, back on his side. He hadn't worked so hard to become Minister only to have it taken away by a group of over-zealous Wizard Scout wanna-be's and a sad, mistreated teenaged boy! Pushing the mound of reports onto the floor, he pulled a bottle of Firewhisky from his bottom drawer, deciding to forget his problems for the time being.

****end chapter****

**Notes:** I won't be telling you the first Horcrux spell. I don't want to give anyone any ideas. But I will acknowledge that I purposely built a loophole into the first spell, that being that it can be cast before the murder (which is what Voldemort did, he cast it before killing Harry), but it can also be cast after the murder (which he also did without realizing it, as when Voldemort cast it he had just killed Lily). I admit that one problem I've always had with 'Harry as a Horcrux' was how you could possibly make one by accident, so I really felt that had to be explained. I mean, I've messed up recipes while cooking before, but I have yet to accidentally make a cake!

The second spell translates like this: Delego (to transfer an object closely associated with a specific person) Sawol (a piece of ones soul) Insum (contained in), then the object. So what Harry cast was roughly 'transfer a piece of soul, and contain it within the elephants'.


	24. A happy ending

Technicalities: I own a couple of none-consequential characters; someone else owns the rest. I own the 'spirit' of this story; someone else owns the recognizable plot devices. See the pattern?

.

.

**24. A happy ending **

On Friday, two days before the students were to return, Harry decided to visit the Ravenclaw common room. None of their students had remained over the break, and he wanted to get a close look at the tiara, which he thought he remembered seeing on a statue when he had been exploring last summer. He was only one corridor away from the entryway when Dobby popped into the hallway and came running into him.

"There you is being Harry Potter. Headmaster Dumbledore is asking Dobby to find you and bring you this note right away. Is Harry Potter being in trouble?" the nervous elf asked as he rocked on his feet.

"Relax, Dobby. I'm sure I'm not in any trouble. He probably just wants me to come to his office." Harry hoped the elf believed him, though secretly he was a bit worried. Maybe the man knew what he was up to? The note was in fact a summons to his office, but he was requested to bring his invisibility cloak, and he was to ask Dobby to take him there immediately. "Dobby, the Headmaster wants you to take me to his office immediately. Can you do that?"

"Oh, yes! Dobby can be taking Harry Potter to the Headmaster's office. Dobby be doing it right now." And before Harry could even blink, Dobby had grabbed him by his wrist, and the two of them had suddenly appeared in front of Albus' desk.

Albus, it seemed, had been watching for them. "Excellent job, Dobby. Now, if you could please excuse us?" He waited for Dobby to disappear from the room before continuing. "Harry, I have received a note from Professor Snape, who has been visiting with … _friends_, shall we say? He asked to see me as soon as he had a chance to freshen up. Given our recent activities regarding these friends, I felt it best that you be present. As we did over the summer, I would like you to be hidden under your cloak, and I will apply a silencing charm."

Harry was quick to agree, and no sooner had they gotten Harry into position, sitting on a trunk behind and to the left of Albus' desk, than there was a knocking on the office door. Albus invited the waiting professor in, indicating the open chair across from the hidden boy so Harry would be able to see Snape's face as he spoke.

Once pleasantries had been exchanged (tea?, lemon drop?), Snape got straight to the point. "I was called this morning, Headmaster. This in itself was most unusual. As you know, I was just called New Years Day. My callings are not normally so close together."

Albus leaned forward, resting his forearms on his desk. "Was this a full meeting?" he asked.

"No. This time I was honored with a private audience." The sarcasm was unmistakable, as was the slight frown on his face. "He knows about my Vow, Headmaster. He has graciously decided not to punish me. Apparently losing my life will be enough for him."

Albus shook his head slightly. "Now Severus, I have no intention of allowing you to die."

Snape shifted in his chair. "So you plan to let the boy kill you after all? Or do you think I will do the deed, for I cannot conceive of any other way for me to survive this fiasco." Snape's voice had grown quiet, much like it did in class when someone did something wrong.

"Calm yourself, Severus," Albus said. "As I have told you repeatedly, neither I nor you will be dying this year."

Snape nearly laughed. "Forgive me, Sir, but your assurances are not very comforting. Are you even going to tell me how you plan to pull off this amazing feat, or do you plan to keep me in the dark? As I recall, that strategy worked so well with your Golden Boy last year," he said with a sneer on his face.

Albus dropped back into his seat. Clearly that last comment had gotten to him. "We all made many mistakes dealing with Harry last year, your self included, which you and I have discussed at great length. I see no need to revisit that particular topic." Albus gave Snape his patented 'over the glasses' look. "If you must know, I cannot tell you the plan for I myself do not know it. As you have pointed out numerous times, I cannot handle everything on my own. So, as we have many talented witches and wizards in the Order, I have assigned this task to someone who is uniquely qualified to handle the challenge. I have the utmost faith in this person's ability."

Snape was taken aback. "You have what? Please, tell me you haven't asked Fletcher, or even worst Lupin, to handle this. I may as well jump out your window right now and put myself out of my misery. Thank heavens that Black is no longer with us, or I imagine you would have been temped to put my life in his miserable hands."

Albus knew he needed to stop this before Harry became upset. He was not petrified, after all. In a loud voice he said, "Enough Severus. I know you are under a great deal of stress, so I give you leeway, but do not forget yourself. Now, what do you have to report?"

Once Snape started to give his report, he seemed to settle back into the cold, unfeeling person he normally was; at least in Harry's opinion. Voldemort, it was told, had called Snape to personally give him a new assignment. He wanted (and by wanted, he meant demanded) one vial of Draught of Living Death, to be delivered to him as quickly as possible, but absolutely no later than May 25th. Albus was quick to deduce, and Snape to agree, that the date was a significant clue. After all, if Voldemort did not really expect Draco to succeed (and neither thought he did), and if he also did not expect Snape to be any more successful than Draco (which they also agreed), then it was easily inferred that Draco was expected to make his attempt after May 25th, possibly as early as the 26th.

At Albus' suggestion, Snape agreed to contact Narcissa Malfoy and try to get her to confirm this. Given that it was she who had asked for Snape's help in the first place, it was likely that she would provide the information. It was, after all, in her son's best interest.

Albus and Snape discussed how this assumed date would affect their plans. Albus insisted that young Mister Malfoy be given the chance to redeem himself, as he did not believe the boy 'lost'. Snape scoffed at the idea, feeling it was best to simply stop the boy before he had the chance to act. In truth, Snape was worried that Draco might actually succeed. He reasoned that Albus was not as young and agile as he used to be, or that he might decide to sacrifice himself if it would protect any of the other students, most especially a certain dark-haired troublemaker, who would no doubt find a way to interfere. Snape went so far as to suggest that Albus was losing his focus, spending too much time worrying about one (bothersome) boy instead of concentrating on the big picture. Such a lack of focus could lead him to make a grave error. Albus wholly agreed that he was not indestructible, and conceded that, as he happily put it, even the blind squirrel occasionally gets the nut. This did little to calm Snape's fears, and even less to calm Harry's.

Getting back to his new assignment, Snape admitted that he had not been told who the draught was for, but given what they knew about the Dark Lord's obsession with 'the Potter spawn', it wasn't hard to guess. Once again bringing up Potter's ability to always insert himself into the affairs of others, Snape suggested it would be best to lock him in the divination tower the day of Draco's attempt to keep him out of their hair, er, harm's way. Albus took the comments in stride, and at the end simply suggested that perhaps Severus should take a nice bubble bath to relieve some stress. An indignant Snape left shortly thereafter.

Once the office was secured, Albus removed his charm from Harry, and motioned for the boy to take the now-empty seat. The two discussed the implications of Voldemort's latest command. Draught of Living Death, when administered full-strength, could keep a person unconscious but alive for about 20 years. It would be the perfect way to keep a human Horcrux safe during the war. Albus felt this confirmed what Harry had seen in Voldemort's mind, not that he had doubted it; Voldemort had jumped to his conclusion shortly after he tried to possess Harry. It made sense – he would have 'felt' his own powers inside Harry, and added that to the other clues. But as usual, Voldemort would have ignored that which he did not believe in. He would not have figured out that Lily's protection had been strong enough to destroy the sawol, for even now he didn't believe in the power of love.

It would have never occurred to him that Harry was no longer a Horcrux, and Albus planned to make certain it never did. With a casualness that instantly put Harry on alert, Albus asked if Harry would allow him to hide the secret that Harry wasn't a Horcrux. Not sure what that meant, but deciding to trust his guardian, he agreed. Albus pulled his wand and to Harry's surprise cast the Celo Hic spell, and Harry once again felt the 'brain freeze' sensation. This time, he was able to push off the ensuing confusion so they could continue their discussion.

The way Albus saw it, this whole situation was a blessing for the Light. Since Voldemort had had his 'revelation', he had ordered that Harry not be killed or significantly harmed. This gave Harry a strategic advantage. The worst case scenario had Harry captured and forced to take the Draught. While this was obviously not a desired outcome, even Harry admitted that it was acceptable. There was a 97% survival rate for wizards revived from the Draught within one year of administration. The rate dropped slowly for the next four years, then started a sharp decline, until death occurred naturally at around 20 years. So should the worst happen, and Harry was forced to ingest the potion, there was plenty of time for the Order to find Harry and revive him.

As Albus was taking a sip of his tea, Harry decided to change the subject so the didn't have to think about his non-death any more. "Professor, may I ask which Order member you have asked to help Sn … Professor Snape? It seems impossible to me."

Albus chuckled. "I would think that you of all people would not put much stock in impossible. Tell me, Harry, how would you save Professor Snape?"

Now Harry laughed. "Are you sure we have to save him? It sounded to me like he would be perfectly happy to jump out the window."

Albus tried to give Harry a stern look, but the smile on his face somewhat spoiled the effect. "I shall pretend you did not just ask me that. Professor Snape may be a lot of things Harry, strict, caustic – "

"depressing, unforgiving, close-minded…", Harry injected.

"Now, now. Professor Snape has lived a harsh life. While I can agree that at times he does not seem the well-adjusted adult he should be, we cannot overlook that good which he has done." Albus looked over as Harry reluctantly nodded his agreement. "Professor Snape has been a spy for us for almost your entire life. I am sure I do not have to tell you what would happen if he were found out? Can we not overlook a few personality quirks when we understand the enormous pressure he is under? My point being, Harry, that we owe Snape far more than most realize, and that is one debt I fully intend to see repaid; so save him we shall."

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, Harry couldn't stop himself from laughing. "Don't you mean _Professor_ Snape, Sir?" He tipped his head down so he was looking at Albus over his glasses, but he didn't think he quite pulled it off. '_Must be the style of glasses he wears.'_

Albus saw what he was doing and returned the look, to much greater effect. "To what are you referring, Harry?"

"Just now, you called him Snape, not Professor Snape."

"I assure you I did no such thing," Albus said. But at Harry's continued laughter, Albus played the conversation over in his mind. "Oh my, so I did. You seem to be rubbing off on me, Harry. What do you say we not tell Minerva about my little slip?"

Harry, who had learned well from the Weasley twins and knew blackmail material when he heard it, evasively answered, "sounds like a plan to me."

"Wonderful. Now, back to the matter at hand. I believe I had asked you how you would handle the matter of saving _Professor_ Snape."

Harry could hear the emphasis in Albus' voice, and smiled again. He mulled it over for several minutes. How would he save the greasy git? He looked at Albus, who had leaned back in his chair again, and seemed content to drink his tea and give Harry as much time as needed. He ran several scenarios through his mind, rejecting most of them. '_How would I even get him to Siberia?'_ It finally occurred to him that he should just start talking; things usually worked themselves out as he went along.

He cleared his throat to get Albus' attention. "Well, I have a few ideas, but I don't honestly know if they would work. What if he used Polyjuice to turn into someone else? … Or we captured a Death Eater and turned him into Professor Snape, and sent him after you." Harry fell silent again as Albus calmly took another drink of his tea. "No, that probably wouldn't work. I mean, the Vow isn't exactly alive, so I don't think it could be fooled by Polyjuice. The map isn't. And we really wouldn't want to confuse the Order by there being two Snapes, especially when one wouldn't be on our side."

Albus was glad that Harry was reasoning this out on his own. "I tend to agree with that assessment. Do you have any other thoughts? Keep in mind, we are just brainstorming, so feel free to suggest anything no matter how implausible it may seem."

"Right. Well, the day of the attack, we could transfigure him into something else. It is possible to transfigure a person into an object and back again, isn't it?" Harry paused as Albus replied in the affirmative. "OK, so that might work, since an object can't die."

"An interesting theory, definitely worth more contemplation. Anything else?"

Harry shook his head. "Nothing at the moment. The problem is, without knowing the exact wording of the Vow, it's kind of hard to work out a way around it. I mean, did he specifically agree to kill you, or just to finish Draco's task. And if that is the case, what exactly is Draco's task: to kill you, or just to try to kill you? If all he has to do is try, than technically, if he tries and fails, he has still fulfilled his task, and Snape is off the hook. I guess I would need more information before I could really make a plan." Harry looked apologetic as he said this, so he was confused by the proud look he saw on Albus' face.

"You are absolutely correct, and I am rather pleased that you came to this conclusion on your own."

Harry waved off the comment. "Oh, I usually know that I'm missing information. I just don't normally have the time or the ability to get that information." Harry saw the sorrow entering Albus' eyes, and hoped the man would realize soon that he didn't need to keep feeling guilty. They had agreed to leave their past mistakes in the past.

A second later, a small smile crept onto Albus' face. "Rest assured, this time, I will make certain you have all the information you need to plan wisely."

Harry felt, not exactly fear, but maybe unease. "I thought you had already given me the information I needed. You remember, Horcruxes and whatnot. What exactly are we talking about, Professor?"

"Why, your task, Harry. Did I forget to mention that _you_ are the Order member that will be in charge of saving our dear Professor Snape's life?'' The look of alarm on Harry's face was priceless. Albus would never admit it to anyone else, but sometimes he rather enjoyed shocking people. Yes, this memory would be going in the pensieve to be viewed again later.

A short time later, after a dazed Harry had left, Albus propped his feet up and closed his eyes. He knew his decision would be unpopular within the Order, none of whom knew Harry was even a member. (And he anticipated that the look on Severus' face, when he found out, would rival Harry's just now.) But he would be steadfast in this. It was not just a flight of fancy, or some crazy scheme to bring Severus and Harry closer together. This was a concern that had plagued him for months, and ultimately, his decision to assign Harry this task had been three-fold. First, it would give the boy something to focus on other than, well, everything else. Honestly, the list of things his ward had to worry about was staggering – his personal life continually becoming public fodder, the plot against Albus, and his escalating relationship with Miss Weasley, not to mention school work. Yes, something specific to focus on was a good thing.

Two, he knew that Harry wouldn't take up the challenge alone. He and those friends of his had certainly proven in the past that they were unstoppable when driven to something. It was an excellent use of an otherwise under-utilized resource. Never again would he discount their abilities based on their ages.

And finally, to be truthful, he had worried that certain Order members, upon discovering that it was Severus that required saving, might only give it a half-hearted attempt. Not that he could blame them. Severus certainly seemed to go out of his way at times to antagonize the others. Still, it was a concern. But Harry was nothing if not unswerving, what some called stubborn. Albus had actually sighed in relief when Harry had accepted the assignment. He knew that Harry would not allow himself to fail.

The chiming of the clock brought him from his musings. Standing, he called a house-elf to clean away the remains of the tea, and started out his door. He had 'promised' Minerva he would help her grade the Fourth Year projects in exchange for her not telling Molly Weasley the truth about her daughter's necklace. Someday, he really must ask that hat if it had considered Minerva for Slytherin.

-000-

With the end of the holiday break fast approaching, Harry had a plan. It had taken beating Albus at Candyland (best 2 out of 3) to get his way, but he finally prevailed. He was given permission to return to Grimmauld Place on the last day of the break to take Ginny on an official date in Muggle London. Sure, he had been 'required' to fire-call Mr. Weasley to ask his permission first, and he had to allow Tonks and a disguised Remus to tag along, and somehow Ron and Hermione had also been included, but Harry considered it a victory anyway, because he got to take Ginny on a muggle date. Which meant they would wear muggle clothes; and Harry loved how Ginny looked in his old jumpers and a pair of jeans.

So it was with a bit of excitement that the group of six drove to a nice section of town to grab a bite to eat. Eventually they found a little pizza shop and went in for dinner. The experience was fascinating for the purebloods in the group and the food was excellent, but Harry and Ginny both found it hard to enjoy themselves surrounded as they were. At the cinema, Harry insisted that he and Ginny be allowed to sit alone. Tonks gave in so quickly that Harry was instantly on the alert for other Order members hidden in the theater. After searching the other patrons for familiar faces, he finally shrugged, deciding to ignore the watchers and enjoy his date.

Having never actually been to the cinema himself, he had allowed Tonk's to take the lead, and at her prompting that it was a 'chick flick' – which she assured him was exactly what he wanted – he chose The English Patient. He found the story rather dull, although the acting was good, and the lead character had seemed vaguely familiar. Ginny, apparently being a chick, cried at all the right parts, leaning into his side as she did so, and at the end declared it 'brilliant'. Hermione agreed with Ginny, while Ron found the story 'rather hard to swallow' because all they had to do was 'give him a couple potions and he'd be good as new'.

In the parking lot, Harry and Ginny were quick to jump into the back seat with Random Teenage Muggle (aka, Remus), leaving Hermione and Ron to continue their argument _('honestly, Ron, have you learned nothing of Muggles in all the time you've spent with me?'_) in the front with Tonks. With Ron's attention effectively focused elsewhere, and Remus' sudden fascination with street lamps, Harry and Ginny spent the drive home pleasantly snuggled together.

Once they arrived back at the house, the four teens made their way to the sitting room. Ron and Hermione sat in chairs on either end of the sofa that Harry and Ginny occupied. After several tense moments of silence, it became clear to Harry that he had missed something. He turned to Ginny, who just shrugged her shoulders. She, after all, had been as preoccupied on the ride back as he had been.

Regrettably, Harry tried to get his friends talking. "I can't believe I finally had a date that didn't end in disaster. Maybe my luck is turning, don't you think, Ron?"

When Ron turned to answer, there was an odd look on his face, reminding Harry of someone in need of a restroom. "What do you mean what do I think?" Ron practically yelled. "I'm not the idiot trying to impress some girl, holding hands and making faces and all."

Harry looked sharply at his friend, not understanding this sudden attitude. "She's not 'some girl', Ron, she's your sister. And what's wrong with wanting to impress my girlfriend? For your information, I like showing Ginny a good time, and holding her hand, not to mention a few other things, most of which is none of your business." Harry didn't understand what his friend's problem was. He'd seen the two of them being 'lovey' together lots of times.

Ron flopped back in his chair. "Look, I'm just saying, you two are acting like this is something serious. We're just a bunch of kids trying to ignore a war and have a bit of fun. I mean, last year you were madly in love with Cho Chang, and Ginny was with, Corner was it? You too need to tone it down. One day you'll wake up and realize that this is just a fling."

"Would it be better if I told you I was just with him for the sex?" Ginny angrily retorted.

Harry squeezed Ginny's arm to signal he would handle it. "Ron, if that's how you really feel, I think you should leave us." Ron didn't make eye contact as he rose from the chair and left.

Hermione stood as soon as he was gone. "I'm so sorry. It really was a great time. I'll just go and see if I can figure out what's crawled up his, er behind, and died." She looked at them, leaning into each other on the couch, and couldn't help but think that Ron was dead wrong about the two of them. She smirked, "I trust you too can find some way to keep yourselves occupied all alone, on that comfy sofa. I won't wait up for you Ginny. Goodnight." And she too left the room, closing the door firmly behind her.

Left on their own, it wasn't long before Harry was lying on the couch, Ginny on top of him. At some point, her jumper had been removed, and feeling daring, Harry removed her bra. This was a new experience for them, but Harry took the moans and gasps as a good sign, and continued his exploration. His hands and mouth mapped every part of her skin that he could reach. A small (_very small_) part of his brain was glad that the Chastity Charm was in place, because he was certain he could get carried away, and Ginny sounded like she wouldn't object.

The next time Harry became aware of something other than Ginny, it was a creak on the floor. Glancing over, they spied Kreacher standing just inside the door. Freezing like deer in the headlights, they heard him say, "Kreacher sees that Master is occupied. Master will not be disturbed tonight. Kreacher will make certain Master and his Lady are left alone." With that, Kreacher snapped his fingers, and disappeared from the room.

"Any idea what that was about?" Harry asked as he lips went back to Ginny neckline.

Ginny breathlessly replied, "I think he's going to make sure we don't get caught. Can we trust him?"

"Don't know if we should, but I plan to."

And they did. When couple finally stumbled their way upstairs, half dressed at about 2:00 in the morning, their path was completely clear. After a soft kiss goodnight outside the room Ginny was sharing with Hermione, Harry made his way to Sirius' old room, eternally grateful that he had the room, and therefore some quality time, to himself.

**** end chapter ****

**Notes:** If you've forgotten the details of the Celo Hic spell, go back to the notes section of Chapter 9. I've never actually seen The English Patient, but I did read a synopsis, so I hope the description fit OK. I picked it from a list of movies that were released at the right time, and because the lead actor seemed appropriate.


	25. What family does

Legal schpegal: I don't own anything from the official Harry Potter world, and really, you should know that by now.

.

.

**25. What Family Does**

The ride back to school the next day was uneventful. Harry and Ginny slept for most of the ride, having had a very late night. Ron had made himself scarce, as he had also had words with Hermione the night before. And Hermione, ever the scholar, spent the time reading Harry's copy of Hogwarts: A History, trying to find a way to see what Draco was doing in the Room of Requirement.

The first day of classes began with a matter-of-fact announcement that the Transfiguration classroom had relocated itself some time over the holiday. It was now one floor above its previous location, and on the right-hand instead of the left-hand side of the corridor. Harry shared a knowing look with Hermione, and with a smile she motioned for him to explain to his confused classmates. He began by reminding everyone what they already knew, that staircases moved and doors (and rooms) could appear and disappear at different times. They all nodded their agreement, so he continued by explaining that, according to Hogwart's: A History, the rooms themselves could move. "Don't you all remember when the Hospital Wing moved from first floor to third floor?" Most of his friends just responded with blank looks, though Ron made a rather snide comment that only Harry would have noticed that because he spends so much time there.

Over the next two weeks, things became more strained between Ron and the rest of the group as Ron continued his nasty comments, expanding them to include Harry's relatives and occasionally even Ginny. He steadfastly insisted that Harry and Ginny were getting 'too cozy'; in response Hermione would insist they were fine, and Ginny would claim that Ron needed to find some way to relieve that pent up sexual frustration before he popped.

Things came to a head on the way to Quidditch practice one afternoon when Harry and Ron had almost traded blows. It seemed _someone_ had started the rumor that Harry was upset he wasn't 'getting any', and was looking for some 'action'. Many of the less-than-respectable girls in the school had been making moves at the mortified boy. But the spark on the firecracker had been when Pansy Parkinson had sauntered up and grabbed Harry's behind. Then, when he spun around in surprise, she grabbed his, well, _front_. He was so shocked he dropped his wand. Ginny, however, had no such problem, and another Bat Bogey Hex went flying. Once he'd recovered from the surprise and embarrassment, Harry rounded on Ron, demanding that he stop trying to break them up. Ron claimed innocence and things went downhill from there. They were lucky that it was the head girl, and not a professor that came along and broke it up.

Well, lucky for everyone else involved. Albus, of course, knew about the almost fight, and politely requested Harry's version of the story at their next breakfast. Harry might have accepted the old man as a father figure, but that didn't make it any more comfortable trying to explain what 'getting any' and 'action' described. As Harry squirmed his way through the explanation, Albus smiled and nodded as he calmly enjoyed his lemon drop. Harry wasn't punished for the near-fight, as Albus had remembered that he agreed to only become involved if Minerva brought the matter to his attention, but he did leave Harry with the sage advice, 'a man with many enemies needs many friends.'

As January marched on, Harry and his friends noticed, not necessarily an increase in the number of Death Eater attacks, but a definite difference in the quality of the attacks. Instead of random wizards, high profile wizards or their immediate families were being attacked. Muggle attacks now seemed designed for maximum damage and panic-inducement – a train was derailed during peak hours, an airplane crashed into the control tower of the airport, and a family of 5 was killed in a hit-and-run just outside of Buckingham Palace. All these events were explained away to the Muggle public (faulty equipment, miscommunication, drinking), but the Ministry couldn't keep the grisly details hidden for long. A pack of werewolves had attacked the engine of the train, shredding the entire crew into pieces; with no one at the controls the train gained too much speed and jumped the track on a sharp curve. A muggle contraption called a 'black box' had captured the sound of a male wizard casting the Imperious Curse on the pilot, followed by the command to fly into the tower, then the unmistakable sound of Disapparation. Eye witnesses to the hit-and-run all claimed that the driver of the other car appeared to be wearing black clothes and a white mask, and that his car drove off without a scratch – before being Obliviated, of course.

Harry had also had his first 'daytime' vision since last year, having experienced Voldemort's glee in the aftermath of the werewolf attack. The bastard had walked through the carnage, praising his Death Eaters for a job well done and promising the werewolves more chances to rampage. Harry had been so sickened by the other's joy that he'd had to excuse himself from Defense class so he didn't lose his breakfast on the classroom floor.

But Muggles weren't the only ones being attacked. Notable wizards and witches continued to meet ghastly or mysterious ends. Most recently, Morticia Moondog, the head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, had been found with her throat ripped out. Several others, like the wife of a rich Diagon Alley landlord, simply disappeared. A little closer to home, Horace Slughorn had become a permanent resident at Saint Mungo's, having shared the same fate as the Longbottoms. According to Snape's information, Bellatrix Lestrange had cursed the retired Professor while Voldemort himself watched. Public opinion held that he had been attacked for refusing to use his many connections to forward He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's cause; and he was being honored as a hero for refusing to give in. Albus and Harry knew the truth – that Tom Riddle didn't want his former teacher to tell anyone of his inquiries into Horcruxes – but they kept this to themselves, agreeing that the once-jovial man deserved to be remembered well.

One morning in early February, Harry disgustedly threw down the newspaper he had been reading. The cover story was the death of Phyllis Arbuckle, the wife of an Unspeakable, who bore an uncanny resemblance to Mrs. Weasley. He had had enough. Without a word he rose from the table, leaving his breakfast uneaten, and walked calmly but with purpose from the Great Hall. His friends scrambled to catch up with him, but he waved them off as he quickly made his way to the Headmaster's office. He let himself into the office – _'family first'_ – and dropped into his favorite chair. By the time Albus arrived, Harry was ignoring a cup of tea and picking at an apple fritter that Dobby had insisted he take.

Albus forwent his desk and instead made himself comfortable in the chair next to Harry. Looking at the boy, and the mutilated fritter he was holding, he settled back and casually asked, "Should you not be in Arithmancy? I do not seem to recall any classes being cancelled today."

Harry looked up, surprised he had missed Albus' entrance. "Sorry, Sir, I just really needed to speak with you. I guess I could have found some way to get sent to your office, but then I would be stuck with a detention, at the least, not to mention pissing off a teacher I happen to really like. This way, you can just tell her that I was with you." Harry said, smiling despite his somber mood. He was relieved to see that Albus did not appear upset with him. "Don't worry, I'll set an appointment with my Professor to find out what I missed." He hesitated before adding, "But right now, I need to speak to my guardian, not my Headmaster."

Albus had of course suspected as much – he too had noticed the dead woman's resemblance to Mother Weasley. "Certainly. Let me change into my 'guardian hat'." To Harry's amazement, Albus tapped his hat once with his wand, and it changed from royal blue with white fur trim (which perfectly matched his robes), into a neon pink ball cap with the Weird Sisters logo. Seeing Harry's surprised look, Albus explained. "A gift from their lead singer your Fourth Year, one of the perks of the job, I suppose. Now, as you can see, I am in full 'guardian' mode. What did you want to discuss?"

Harry was momentarily speechless, but he shook is head slightly, chastising himself. Why did anything this man did surprise him? He stood from his chair so he could pace as he spoke. "I read the front page article in today's paper – about the Unspeakable's wife being attacked. Did you see her picture?" He paused while Albus nodded. "She really looked like Mrs. Weasley. I couldn't help but imagine that it was Mrs. Weasley. You know, between Mister Weasley's love for all things muggle, and their public support of you, not to mention their many connections to me, she's a prime target for Voldemort. It worries me." He stopped pacing and glanced at Albus.

"And justifiably so, Harry. Voldemort's new plan appears to involve intimidation; getting other to do his bidding by threatening or even outright attacking their loved ones. I am unaware what he wanted Mr. Arbuckle to do for him, but the killing indicates that Mr. Arbuckle was less than accommodating. But Harry, this is nothing new. The violence has been escalating since early this past summer. Surely you recall the deaths of Amelia Bones and Emmeline Vance?"

"I do recall them, and many more," Harry responded, perhaps a bit louder than necessary. He gave Albus a tired look. "I've been watching them since the beginning, remember?"

"Ah yes. Mister Diggory's untimely death."

"Actually, I was talking about the old man – the one he used to make the Horcrux. I got to watch that one courtesy of this." Harry jabbed the famous scar with his finger to get his point across.

Having nothing to say that would not aggravate the situation, Albus calmly waited for Harry to continue.

After a few moments of silence, Harry seemed to remember his purpose for this visit. "As I was saying, the story today worries me. It made me realize that the people that are close to me aren't safe. Don't get me wrong, in my mind, I've always known that they weren't safe. But not here." Harry thumped his chest. "In here, they were safe, because I just didn't want to admit that there was any danger in losing any of them." Harry wavered for a moment, thinking of those people.

"How am I supposed to watch that happen?" Harry started pacing again, his footsteps heavy as he let his emotions take control. "I can't watch that happen, I can't let that happen. He will not take more people that I love!" Harry pounded his fist into his other hand for emphasis.

Harry turned to face his guardian, and Albus was taken by the hard look on Harry's face. The green of his eyes had darkened, his jaw was set, his mouth a thin line. For just a second, Albus saw a memory of another young man raging at him. That one, too, had vowed not to let any harm come to his loved one. That one had failed, and the failure had left him bitter and alone. And Albus was suddenly hit with the thought that he had failed that young man in ways he had never before considered. He moved those thoughts aside to ponder another time, and focused back on Harry.

"Harry, please calm yourself. I understand how you feel, but getting worked up will not solve anything. Perhaps you would like me to call Doctor Southwyck?"

Harry allowed the surprise to show on his face, but it was quickly replaced with anger. "Would I what?," he yelled. "You think that just because I'm upset that I need my shrink? What, poor little Harry can't handle anything anymore?" He stopped and took a deep breath to calm himself. After all, a replay of last June might feel good – _'really good'_ – right now, but it wouldn't exactly help get his point across. In a somewhat normal voice, he said, "Look, can you stop asking if I need to speak to Dr. Tony every time things get heated? I'm not going to fall apart at every little thing. I'm allowed to get mad; I'm allowed to get upset. It doesn't mean that I'm going to jump off the North tower. So just stop that, OK?"

Albus sighed, feeling a headache he couldn't afford beginning. "And what would you have me do? Let you get carried away in your anger, and then find you on the floor of your room with a knife in one hand, blood dripping from the other? You are at risk, Harry."

Harry was losing his fight to hold back his anger. "That's not going to happen! I was never suicidal, and I never once hurt myself, not even when I was at my worst. I'm past all that. Nothing is going to happen."

Albus left his chair, and moved to stand near the fireplace, close to where Harry was pacing. In what Harry found to be an irritatingly calm voice, Albus replied, "That is not what you told me this past summer."

"BLOODY HELL!" The volume was back in Harry's voice. "You're never going to let me forget that are you? You're always going to see me as some weak little kid that needs to be watched, aren't you?" Harry stopped in front of Albus, and for a moment they looked each other in the eye as Harry continued. "Is that why you took me in? Because someone had to keep the Boy-Who-Lived alive long enough to do his job?"

"No!" Albus asserted, allowing some of his frustration into his voice. "You know that is not true. I brought you to my home because it is what you, _Harry_, needed, and because I loved you too much to do nothing but watch while you self destructed."

Harry was unconvinced. "You know what? I wish I had never told you anything, that I had never come to live with you. I don't want – "

But what Harry didn't want would remain unknown, because Professor McGonagall chose that particular moment to barge into the room. "Albus, I've just been informed that Mister Pot … oh, I see you already know." She took a moment to study the scene in front of her. Albus, wearing a ridiculous hat, was standing in front of the fire, one hand clutching the back of a nearby chair, the other fisted over his heart, a sorrowful look on his face. Harry was standing about five feet away, facing him, red-faced and breathing heavy. Upon seeing his teacher enter the room, he had crossed his arms protectively over his chest, and bowed his head, though he was surreptitiously watching her.

"Well, I'll just send a note to his professor that he is meeting with you, shall I Headmaster?" Seeing Albus' nod she began to leave, but before reaching the door she turned back. "At the risk of sticking my nose where it doesn't belong, let me say this: A wise man once said 'calling yourselves family is easy, but being family is hard'. Don't let hurt feelings and hasty words destroy what you have built. Now, I will leave the two of you so you can get back at it." She adopted her sternest look. "I trust, Mister Potter, there will be no need to call a cleaning crew this time?"

"No, Professor," Harry replied, a somewhat guilty look on his face.

"Very well." She turned her look to Albus. "And you, Albus, whatever it is you have done to upset the boy, stop doing it. And put on a decent hat." Nodding to one of the portraits (the woman was giving her a standing ovation), she left the room.

The sound of the door clicking shut seemed to cause Harry to deflate. His face softened, and he silently made his way back to his chair. He vaguely noticed that Albus had retaken his seat as well. Harry was not aware of how long they silently sat, as they watched the portraits watching them. He was startled back to awareness by the sound of Fawkes flying into the room. The phoenix circled the room once, and then landed on Albus' desk, looking between the two of them. Harry thought the great bird was actually shaking its head at them, but figured it had to be his imagination.

Albus was the first to speak. "Forgive me, Harry."

"No, Sir. I mean, I should be the one apologizing … and I am sorry. Much as I hate to admit it, you have a good reason to be concerned. I _was_ a bit of a mess this summer. … But you have to believe me when I say that I am better. I will _never_ hurt myself."

"I believe you, Harry. I can see the change in you for myself. And you have a point; I should not have asked about Dr. Southwyck, I should have listened to you myself." Albus allowed a small smile to come to his face. "It seems I have traded last year's distance for over-protectiveness."

Harry felt his own smile creep across his face. "If it makes you feel any better, I prefer over-protective to disregard any day."

Albus took a sip of the tea that had appeared as soon as he retaken his seat and settled more comfortably into his chair. "I remember having arguments with my Mother when I was young. She always told me it would be different when I was a parent. As a teacher, and even Headmaster, I always thought she had exaggerated, for handling children was rather easy. Now I understand." They both went back to drinking their tea, not sure what to say. Finally, Albus ventured forth. "Well now, I dare say there was a reason for your visit to my office today, and hopefully telling me off was not it."

Harry laughed. "No Sir. I actually wanted to talk to you about my part in the prophecy. We both know that I will be facing Voldemort again some time, whether I want to or not. Oh, and his Death Eaters. I mean, we both know I'm not going to be locked in a tower when Draco makes his attempt, no matter what Professor Snape wants. The problem is … well, how do I say this politely? My defense education has been, for the most part, somewhat lacking."

Albus tipped his head approvingly. "Diplomatically stated. What do you propose?"

"I want to get extra training. When you were talking to Professor Snape, you mentioned how talented the Order is. I thought maybe someone like Remus could come and give me lessons. He's the one that taught me the Patronus Charm in Third Year."

Albus absently stroked his beard as he considered this. "That is an excellent idea. Our major obstacle would be getting the Board of Governors to agree to allow what would amount to a private tutor to come into Hogwarts. We will have to find a way around them."

Harry would not be deterred. "What if they don't come here. I could go to them; meet them at to Uncle Abe's or headquarters."

"I doubt they would be any more open to allowing a student to leave the grounds for non-sanctioned events," Albus countered.

Harry looked back to Albus, smiling a brilliant smile, his eyes sparkling. "Then I suppose it's a good thing that I know how to leave the school grounds unobserved. Between the Marauders Map and my cloak, we shouldn't have a problem."

This got Albus' attention. "Harry, just how much experience do you have leaving the school grounds unobserved?"

Harry at least had the grace to turn a bit red in the face. "You're still wearing your guardian hat, so anything I might confess would not fall under the school's authority, correct?"

"Absolutely," Albus confirmed, confident that Harry would not realize that his confession would circumvent Albus' 'no punishment for school related issues' vow.

"Well, in that case … I plead the fifth."

"Plead the fifth?" Albus was at a loss, something that didn't happen often, and that he was discovering he did not enjoy, not in connection to Harry. "Fifth what?"

Harry chuckled. "Er, I'm not actually sure. It's an American thing I've heard of; something to do with not having to confess your sins."

"Ah yes, the Fifth Amendment." Albus remembered discussing it once at an OSU meeting. "But you're not American."

Harry looked down at his wrist, which was bare as he hadn't grabbed his watch that morning. "Well, would you look at the time? I best hurry off if I don't want to miss any more valuable classroom instruction." He rose from his chair, and grabbed the book bag that was sitting by the desk, before looking back to his guardian. "So you'll look into it? The training, I mean."

Albus, who was moving back to his desk, stopped next to the boy. "Yes, I will look into it. If you would allow me to accompany you to your next Tuesday appointment, I can update you on my progress."

"That sounds fine, Sir." Harry started to move away, then turned back and gave Albus a quick hug, which was heartily returned, before making a hasty retreat. The article this morning had, at first, scared him by forcing him to acknowledge that his loved ones – those he considered his family – were all potential targets. But that fear had given way to the realization that, while people like Mister Weasley and Tonks were more than capable of fighting back, he wasn't. At least not against Voldemort, and that had to change if he was going to be the one to survive. He was relieved that Albus had agreed so easily. _'Maybe it had been bothering him too?' _ Between the lessons Albus would arrange, and the fighting tricks he was learning playing Battleball, he finally felt like he could be ready for the fight when it came.

-000-

Harry was distracted the rest of the day. He had heard his friends tell stories of arguments with their parents, and had been unlucky enough to witness a few featuring Mrs. Weasley and various red-heads, but as they say, seeing and being are two different things. He couldn't believe some of the things he had said. And in the end, he hadn't even been punished for his disrespect; in fact, he had been _hugged_. That was certainly different from anything he had experienced growing up. Not that he would have spoken to his aunt or uncle in such a manner, but Dudley sure had, and come to think of it, he was never really punished either, although Harry suspected that it wasn't for the same reasons.

The week flew by, with him catching up on his Arithmancy work (who knew missing one class would put him so far behind?) and talking with the girls. That's how he was starting to think of Hermione and Ginny collectively – 'the girls', not that he would say that out loud, mind you. Ron was still avoiding him, instead hanging out with Dean Thomas or Ritchie Coote from the Quidditch team, and had started a very public relationship with Lavender Brown, right down to the sickeningly sweet pet names they used for each other. Harry found it ironic that Ron had complained that he and Ginny were 'too cozy' after they had been dating for four months, yet he and Lavender had been openly snogging in the common room the very day they got together.

He wasn't sure how he felt about Ron these days. He didn't actually have proof that Ron had started that awful rumor, but at the same time, he had been a right arse that night after the movie. He and 'the girls' sometimes talked about inviting Ron to sit with them again, but honestly, none of them wanted to be subjected to Lavender, who seemed to think that life wasn't properly lived unless it was spent attached to Ron, sometimes by their hands, but by their lips when possible. Besides, Harry felt that Hermione seemed to take Ron's new relationship rather personally, and even thought he knew why, so he didn't really push the issue.

And so, 'the Trio' had become 'Harry and the girls' – '_sounds like a muggle band'_ – though Neville had started sitting with them more. It was one such evening, when Harry, Neville and the girls were sitting together working on homework, when Harry told them he had asked for training, and that he would likely get it in the near future. Having been a part of the infamous Ministry Melee had given (sadly, in Harry's opinion) his friends a new perspective. None of them had questioned the fairness or legitimacy of such lessons, nor demanded to be included in same, they simply agreed to help him cover-up his disappearances when the time came.

Soon the weekend was upon them, but before he could enjoy it Harry had to get through Potions. He had already finished his potion and was cleaning his station when it happened – in the row ahead of him a cauldron erupted in a style normally only seen from Neville; the potion turned to a gaseous state and immediately spread across the dungeon room. Snape immediately sprung into action, ordering the students into the hall while he cleared away the heavy greenish-grey mist that was hanging shoulder height to the students. The class ended up being dismissed late, as they needed to wait for the air to clear so they could retrieve their possessions. Harry and Hermione were still coughing as they made their way to the Tower, Hermione grumbling about Snape's lack of concern for all but the Slytherin students.

At last, it was the day of the Ravenclaw – Slytherin Quidditch match. The group of Gryffindors, inspired by Luna's hat last year, had planned to take a stuffed raven with them to the match which had been charmed to caw every time Ravenclaw scored. Harry and Ginny had stayed up rather late the night before under the guise of putting some finishing touches on the raven, so when he woke up feeling light-headed, Harry wrote it off to not enough sleep. He did his best to ignore the feeling, getting ready as he normally did. Going down to breakfast, he had to stop a few times as the stairs seemed to be moving under his feet. _'Well, they were moving stair cases, weren't they?'_ But when he put that first bite of food in his mouth, he knew something was wrong. The food felt like shards of glass sliding down his throat. He took a sip of water, which only intensified the feeling. In fact, now it felt like glass was lodged there. He discreetly coughed into his napkin, and was appalled to see a sprinkling of blood when he pulled it away. Not wanting to cause a scene, he wadded up the napkin and leaned to Ginny, quietly asking her for help. She wrapped her arm around him, and they slowly stood and left the hall. Most watching saw the couple acting 'lovey-dovey' and obviously sneaking off for a quick snog before the match.

Albus Dumbledore, it must be said, is not 'most'. He knew something was not right even before he noticed Harry's pale face briefly look in his direction as the two passed by. He casually mentioned to Madam Pomfrey that perhaps she should head to the Hospital Wing to better prepare for the Quidditch related injuries that were sure to come. As Headmaster, he would be expected to finish breakfast and attend the match, but he trusted she would inform him of the situation.

Having arrived at said Wing, Harry dropped into the first available bed and rolled onto his side, massaging his throat with one hand. Ginny sat next to him, rubbing circles on his back. They only had to wait a few minutes before Pomfrey arrived. After listening to his complaint and asking (demanding) Ginny to leave, she had Harry change into pajamas and lie on his back.

Thirty minutes later, she was stumped. Her first two scans showed nothing more than an inflamed throat and low-grade fever, neither of which responded to the standard healing potions, nor did they explain his dizzy spells. Stranger yet, the scans showed that his heart was racing, which could explain the dizziness, although he insisted that his heart and chest felt fine. To be safe, he was given a mild calming draught, which straightened out his heart but left him drowsy. She finally settled for casting an Observation Spell and retreating to her office to consult her _Healer's Guide to Magical Medical Mysteries._

It was shortly after the first Quidditch casualty arrived (fist-fight in the stands, those hooligans) when her Observation Spell sounded. Turning to his bed, she noticed that Harry's entire body seemed to be convulsing. As she rushed to him, she saw something she never wanted to see – the torch over Harry's bed was burning blue flames, the universal sign that a patient is no longer breathing.

****end chapter****

**Notes:** Moving rooms are canon, per an interview Jo gave, and the Hospital Wing did move during the series, you can check it out yourself in the Hogwarts section of the HP Lexicon.

You may recall that the OSU is the Organized Sorcery Union, headquartered in North America.


	26. Blood of the hero, boiling over

Legal Eagle: a bird that doesn't own Harry Potter, much like me.

As a reminder, I'm 'old school' American, meaning I'm old enough that when I went to school everything was taught in Fahrenheit, not Celsius (and inches not metric, but that's not important right now). Sorry if it confuses you.

.

.

**26. Blood of the hero, boiling over**

Madam Pomfrey raced to Harry's bedside, and with a quick jab of her wand she summoned what appeared to be a thin pillow made of rubber. She swiftly removed Harry's shirt and placed the pillow across his chest, tapping it twice with her wand. The 'pillow' immediately formed itself to his upper body like a second skin, then started pulsing in a steady rhythm, forcing air into and out of Harry's lungs and giving his heart a steady beat. As the torch over his bed returned to its normal color, she set a privacy spell around the bed; no need to let others see what was happening.

She watched as color returned to his lips, noting that the convulsions had weakened to slight trembling. Now, people often think of Poppy Pomfrey as just a school nurse, but she is, in fact, a well-qualified professional as evidenced by her quick and efficient handling of the emergency. But she also knows and accepts her limitations. Once she was assured that his lungs and heart were being properly controlled, she pulled a pendent out of her robe, and touching it with her wand, said in a clear voice "Crisis Team to Hogwarts". She was checking the unconscious boy's temperature, which had risen to 103.7, when two people wearing St. Mungo's uniforms stepped through her floo.

Healer Flora, a no-nonsense woman in her mid-seventies, instantly reminded most people of Minerva McGonagall, which as not too surprising given that the women were cousins. Flora was always prompt and precise in her work (although she could drink most of her colleagues under the table after hours). She was one of three Healers designated to answer a Hogwarts call, and a personal friend of Pomfrey's, so Poppy was relieved to see her enter the room. Aide Merriweather, who followed the Healer, was also a favorite. A grandmother and then some, she had become a healer's aide at the young age of 94, when her husband had left her as part of his mid-life crisis. Now in her twentieth year of service, she was well known for her soft voice and gentle touch which had a calming effect on her patients. She was short – well under 5 feet – and round in the middle, to put it nicely, with an equally round face and soft blue eyes. Poppy remembered her from last June, when she had come to help out after _that incident_.

Skipping the pleasantries, Pomfrey immediately launched into a summary of Harry's symptoms, then stood to the side as Healer Flora and Aide Merriweather ran their own scans. Flora stood back after a moment, looking at her latest results. These reading, put together with his symptoms, pointed in one direction: Boiling Blood, an illness that caused the blood to boil in the arteries, which was as painful and as deadly as it sounded. The only way to properly diagnosis was to take a series of blood samples directly from the heart to check its temperature and consistency. Harry was carefully transferred to the far end of the ward and hidden behind privacy curtains so Aide Merriweather could prep him for the procedure while Healer Flora zipped back to St. Mungo's to collect instruments and potions. Pomfrey left them to their tasks so she could finish up the Quidditch injury and inform the Headmaster that his favorite student was gravely ill, and that his guardians should be called to the school, should he take another turn for the worst.

Madam Pomfrey fretfully waited near the doorway of the infirmary for the Headmaster to arrive. In the back of the room, she knew that Flora and Merriweather were taking their first blood sample from Harry. She silently prayed that the convulsions would not start again during the extraction, as sudden movements could be deadly. She had hoped the Headmaster would arrive before they had to start, but if it truly was Boiling Blood, they didn't have an abundance of time. For the best chance at a full recovery, treatment needed to start as quickly as possible; yet treatment could only start after he was properly diagnosed. They had to be certain, because if it wasn't Boiling Blood, the treatment for it would most certainly kill him. Add to that the fact that it would take an hour and a half to withdraw the six samples needed to confirm the diagnosis, and she could understand the need to begin immediately. Still, she hoped the Headmaster arrived soon.

As it turned out, she didn't have to wait much longer; Albus arrived just as Healer Flora was leaving Harry's corner. The Headmaster politely greeted the woman before turning to Pomfrey with a questioning look on his face. Her message had merely stated that 'Potter is ill, please come to the infirmary', and since he already knew Harry to be ill, he hadn't been concerned. So why had Poppy called a team from St. Mungo's?

Flora briskly approached the two and launched into her report. "The first extraction went well. Merriweather doused him with a strong sleeping draught before we began. Best all around if he sleeps through the process, don't you agree Poppy?" Without waiting for the witch to agree, she continued, "I suspect we are on the right track. Blood temp is elevated and there is definitely concentrated magic in his blood. I suspect in the next sample or two we will begin to see the blood sweating as well."

Pomfrey nodded, and spoke up. "Headmaster, we suspect Boiling Blood. If we are correct, treatment is most effective in the first six hours after onset of symptoms. After that, there can be permanent damage. From what Harry was able to tell me, he woke up feeling light-headed around 7:00 this morning. He came in around nine, and it's just before 11:00 now, so we've already lost almost four hours, and that's assuming that his symptoms began upon waking, and not some time during the night."

Flora interrupted. "Unlikely, or we would have seen the blood sweating already. I suspect it was actually the onset of symptoms that woke the boy, he just didn't realize. If we are correct, and I would highly doubt otherwise, we will need to determine the cause. I have Merriweather removing and preserving his stomach and intestine contents, and we will take hair and earwax samples. Shall I send them to Mungo's or would you like to examine them here?"

Albus was reeling. Why was he suddenly having a hard time staying calm? In his many years at the school, he had dealt with many sick children, including a few other cases of Boiling Blood. But that was different. Those were students. This was Harry, his Harry; the boy that had become his son, in spirit if not in blood. He pulled himself together, hoping that the others dismissed his momentary lapse for quiet deliberation, and said, "I would prefer that they stay here. Is there anything else I need to know?"

Flora nodded her acknowledgement as she replied, "You should contact his parents, we really should get their permission for a treatment of this nature. They also may want to be present should things not go well. Do you think they will be able to arrive quickly?"

Albus was quiet for a moment. Obviously, the healer didn't realize who her patient was. How did he proceed without letting on that Harry's guardian was in fact already present? "Ah, well, obtaining _Mister Potter's_ guardian's permission will not be a problem." To the credit of both the women, neither reacted to the famous name. "If you give me the form, I will take care of the matter. As for the other, I believe I would find myself boiled in oil if I did not inform Molly Weasley. If I may use your office?" Inclining his head to the healer, he entered the office so he could sign the form Poppy had produced and inform mother Weasley that one of her chicks was ill.

An hour later found Albus and Molly Weasley seated at Harry's side, watching that strange pillow rise and fall. Poppy had explained that it would stay in place until the danger had passed since his lungs had been compromised. Molly tenderly held one of Harry's hands in hers; Albus sat next to her with his hands clasped tightly in his lap, carefully watching as Aide Merriweather prepared the vials for the last extraction. As Healer Flora and Madam Pomfrey came into the area, Albus moved to stand behind Molly. He grasped Molly's shoulder for support, but whether he was giving or receiving the support was unclear. Together they silently watched as Merriweather pulled the devise away so they could have easy access to his heart. Harry's breathing slowed, but there was no other indication that he was aware of the proceedings as the blood was removed for analysis. As Flora began her tests, Merriweather cleaned the new wound and replaced the 'pillow'.

Almost immediately Flora pronounced, "It's definitely Boiling Blood. I already have what I need to prepare the potions, if you could show me to your work area Poppy? I should be ready for treatment in about twenty-five minutes." The two women left the area to get to work.

Moving to the bedside, Aide Merriweather repositioned Harry's blanket, asking "Is there anyone else coming?" When Albus replied in the negative, she gave him a knowing look. "Well then, I'll just give the two of you a few minutes alone with him, shall I? We can wake him now that the extractions are done, but don't let him move too much as there is a chance of internal bleeding and the Healer wants the Rhythmizer left on." She cast a revival spell and excused herself so the three of them could have some privacy.

Once the nurse had left the area, Albus moved to sit on the edge of Harry's bed, giving the boy comfort with his closeness. Harry was touched that not only had Albus stayed by his side, but that Mrs. Weasley had also come. He smiled weakly, trying to let them know that their presence helped. Harry had been in the infirmary enough times to have learned how to judge the seriousness of the situation by the looks he received, and he could see that this was quite serious. Albus had a worn-out look to him and Mrs. Weasley looked to be near tears. She was holding his right hand between both of hers, and he moved his fingers so he was holding onto her.

Harry proved himself to be awake but groggy, and was quite content to be still while he talked with the adults. Albus explained how they had called in a Healer who had had to test his blood, but now they knew what was wrong and they could heal him. Harry hadn't questioned the lack of details on the extractions, but was noticeably relieved that what sounded like the worst part was past. He took the news that the treatment would leave him magically weak for several days in stride. Hearing the nurse approaching, Albus moved back to his seat, trying his best to look like a mildly concerned Headmaster.

When Merriweather appeared to get Harry ready for the treatment he gave her a small smile as she patted his arm reassuringly. She adjusted the bed to a slight angle, which would make it easier for him to swallow the potions. Her voice was kind but firm as she explained that the strange pillow he wanted off had to stay in place to keep him breathing normal.

Harry became more alert as the treatment progressed. He had opted to skip the full body bind, promising to hold himself still even though he wasn't clear why that was so important. Treatment lasted about 40 minutes, and consisted of a series of potions the consistency of a slushy being forced down his throat, which left his body feeling like it was plunged in a tub of ice. As he shook from the cold he understood why one might want the full body bind – it was darn near impossible to lay still, but he tried his best. Albus and Mrs. Weasley stayed by his side, reassuring him that he was doing fine, the latter adding blankets as he shivered.

Between potions, Flora and Pomfrey were casting charms to monitor the amount of concentrated magic in his blood, which was dropping drastically since the first potion. When treatment was completed, and Harry had been cleaned up, he was left alone again with Albus and Mrs. Weasley, who had been informed they could stay until he fell asleep. A few minutes later, as Albus was assuring him he would be fine, he did just that.

He woke up in time to see the sun streak across the ward as it set. Madam Pomfrey arrived moments later, a tray with dinner and potion bottles in hand. She removed the Rhythmizer, and after confirming that his breathing and heart rate were normal, allowed him to sit up and eat. Harry paused after a few bites when he realized she was still standing there, watching him. "Er, did you need anything?"

Pomfrey had an odd look on her face, which somehow reminded him of Mrs. Weasley, before she answered no and excused herself to 'tend to a fourth year who was in the infirmary for the very first time, if you can imagine.'

As Harry started on his pudding he heard the doors open, and looked up to see his friends come barreling toward him. To his surprise Ron was among the group, and the red-head exclaimed, "Blimey Harry, Boiling Blood! You don't do anything half way, do you?"

Harry couldn't help but laugh. He decided to see if Ron had really come around. "Well, there is one thing I only do half way, but that's only because Ginny makes me stop."

"Harry!" shrieked Hermione, while Ginny smacked him on the arm as she settled onto the bed with him. Neville and Lavender stood slightly behind the three, smiling at the others antics. Harry motioned to the bed next to his, and everyone made themselves at home. Hermione took the chair right beside the bed that had been vacated by Mrs. Weasley some hours ago, while Neville, Ron and Lavender sat on the empty bed, though it could be argued that Lavender was actually more on Ron than on the bed. The teens talked and joked for close to an hour before Pomfrey seemed to finally realize that Harry had too many visitors, and came to clear them out.

Before Ron could leave, Harry reached out and grabbed his arm. It was time to make amends. "About before, what can I say? Sometimes I can be a right horse's behind."

Ron turned a bit red and laughed a bit. "No problem mate, takes one to know one they say." And with that, things seemed to be back to normal. That is, until Lavender bent down and pulled Harry into a tight bear hug, causing him to grimace as she squeezed his tender chest. She stood back up, not seeing his reaction, and she giggled as she pulled Ron to her side and practically hauled him out the door_. 'Well, maybe not quite normal.'_

Ginny, as usual, managed to stay after the others had all left. She got cozy next to him as she gave her unique commentary on the game he had missed, which Ravenclaw had won by a landslide, and discussed her mum, who she had visited with before Mrs. Weasley had left for home. She left when Harry looked like he would fall asleep on her, promising to come again before breakfast. As he settled into the covers to sleep, he thought about how quickly things had changed. At this time yesterday, he and Ginny had been messing with that stuffed raven, just laughing and enjoying life. But one day later, it could have all been over.

His little drama today had made him realize something. He could believe the prophesy – put his life in its hands as Voldemort had – or he could take his life in his own hands and flush the prophecy down the toilet. He could choose _to live_ even though 'the other survives'. His parents hadn't hidden away in the face of terror – well, OK, they had in the literal sense, but he was thinking metaphorically – they had continued on, gotten married, and had him. When he thought about it from that perspective, the choice was easy. It was time to stop hiding from his feelings; it was time to live. His mind made up, he finally allowed himself to sleep.

The next morning went by in a blur. It had been decided that Harry should go home for his week-long recuperation, and his friends all wanted to visit before he left. He also had a mound of get-well cards and gifts that had arrived with the morning post to sort through. His favorite of the pile was the box of muggle 'magical tricks' Fred and George had sent him. Reading through the accompanying brochure, he planned to 'leave his friends in awe' as he 'made a glass of water disappear' without his wand. It might not be nice to think, but he was pretty sure Lavender would fall for it.

By mid morning, his friends had all come and gone, and he was bundled into a warm sweater and his heaviest cloak. _'Does she have to treat me like I'm five?'_ After the obligatory lecture from Madam Pomfrey to take it easy he was joined by Professor McGonagall, who was escorting him to his guardian's house. Which is to say, she escorted him to her office, from which he used the floo to travel to his and Albus' private rooms. Once there, he was directed to his bedroom for a much-needed nap. It would be strange being confined to the rooms for a week, but he's had worse – bars and cat flaps came to mind – so he was sure he would manage.

However, by Tuesday evening Harry was going stir crazy from his confinement, knowing that his friends were so close, yet untouchable. At least during his summer stay he had been able to roam the school, albeit under this cloak. Too bad Albus had taken the cloak from him almost as soon as he'd arrived Sunday. Actually, he had simply walked up to Harry and stretched out his hand; but you didn't need to be an accomplished Legilimens to know what he wanted, and so Harry had handed the cloak over without a fuss. He knew he would get it back when he was pardoned, er, allowed to leave.

And thus, Albus arrived after dinner on Tuesday to find Harry standing on a chair, which was quite a bit taller than it should be, wand in hand and cushions from the couch and chairs spread around the floor. As Albus patiently waited, Harry explained that he was completely caught up in his school work, so he had decided to do what Hermione liked to call independent study. Specifically, he was trying to make himself float down to the floor. After admonishing Harry that he shouldn't be pushing himself so soon, and putting the room to rights, he summoned a book (_Moving with Magic_) and handed it to Harry. "Moving yourself takes a different class of spells than moving others. I believe you want chapter six, but I trust you to concentrate on theory only until you have recovered a bit more."

Harry looked up and thanked him, taking a seat to begin thumbing through the book. Truth be told, his little experiment had left him feeling winded, and he knew he needed to be careful or else his 'convalescence' might get extended. Minutes later, he dropped the book in surprise as a guest appeared in a flash, courtesy of Fawkes. After a second of alarm, Harry recognized the man. "Doctor Tony, I thought I would have to miss our session."

The Muggle let go of Fawkes' tail and looked around the room clearly in awe of his surroundings. "So I'm really standing inside a castle? This really is Hogwarts? This is so cool." When he finally noticed Harry, he stepped forward, clearing his throat as if to clear away his over-exuberance. "Sorry about that. Hello Albus, Harry. Albus explained about your illness, and that you shouldn't leave the safety of the school, so we decided to bring the mountain to Mohammad, so to speak."

After exchanging pleasantries, Albus excused himself to do some of his never-ending work while the other two seated themselves. Tony was fascinated watching a house-elf serve refreshments and then disappear with a snap of its fingers. It wasn't the most productive session Harry had every had, as Tony kept getting side tracked whenever something magical would happen, like when the tea pot tipped itself to refill his cup or when the unicorn in a painting woke up and started to prance around. Nonetheless, Harry felt a bit better after their talk, which was, after all, the whole point.

He and Tony had strayed from their usual topics – Harry's early childhood and his 'saving people thing' being recent favorites – to explore his definition of family. On a scale of 1 to 10, Vernon rated a negative 12, Sirius rated a 5 ('I loved him, but now I can see that he just couldn't really be there for me'), and Albus got a 7 ('or maybe an 8? I know he's trying his best, and that's something, right?'). Their argument the week before had been an eye-opener. Sure, he and Albus had disagreed before, but since they'd come together as a family things hadn't escalated to that level. Harry was rather taken aback that the doctor was glad to hear about the quarrel, or shouting match, as he preferred to call it. Dr. Tony admitted that the lack of what he termed 'typical family discord' had been a concern of his. The fact that Harry was now comfortable enough in this family dynamic to express himself freely was a good thing. To which Harry responded that he must be _real comfortable_ around his friends, which if he was being honest, he was.

After the doctor had left, Harry settled once again with the book Albus had given him. He was so absorbed in the text that he hadn't noticed the hour pass, until Albus eventually re-entered the room. They spent some time discussing the happenings around Hogwarts and Harry's class work, before finally getting down to more serious business. There were a few issues they needed to discuss.

First, the medical analysis was complete. Albus had been relieved to discover that Harry had not been poisoned or drugged, at least not on purpose. He had accidentally inhaled powdered Black Widow silk during his Potions class last Friday. Harry easily recalled the explosion which had created a thick mist that the students had inhaled, mostly because Snape had used several new and highly creative words to describe his student's incompetence. Most in the class just suffered from a bothersome bout of coughing, but Harry had a heretofore unknown allergy to the powder. According to Healer Flora, sever allergic reaction was a leading cause of Boiling Blood, just behind floo contamination. '_Just another reason to not like traveling by floo!'_ Proper procedure called for the Professors to notify the school nurse anytime students were exposed to anything dangerous in class, but apparently Snape hadn't deemed the heavy mist 'dangerous'. Harry doubted there was much that Snape _would_ deem dangerous. By the look on Albus' face as he explained the situation, Harry suspected Snape was in for another lecture.

Moving on to another topic, they discussed the extra training Harry had requested. Starting the following weekend, after he had 'returned' to school – assuming he was cleared by Madam Pomfrey – Harry would be meeting Order members in the Shrieking Shack for four hours every Sunday morning. Harry jokingly suggested that they also meet during full moons so as to remind people why it was considered haunted, which brought a smile to the older man's face. Harry's primary teachers would be Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt, but Lupin might also be making appearances, though NOT on the full moons. In addition, Harry was encouraged to read the defense books from Albus' private library, and Albus hinted that he might work with Harry as well, time permitting.

Before adjourning to bed, Harry brought up the idea of visiting his friends, but as he was not supposed to be in the castle, Albus had to decline. And so, Harry had to survive the rest of the week without the comfort of his friends, or so Albus thought. Harry had something else in mind. Remembering a discussion from the summer, about the castle's magic reacting to him, Harry had devised a plan. He reasoned that a sitting Headmaster would need to be able to get to any part of the castle quickly; therefore, there must be hidden passages from either the office or the private rooms.

While Albus was busy with Wizengamot business on Wednesday, Harry set out to find the passages. Remembering that he had found the gate house passage just by 'feeling' it, he decided to just close his eyes and walk around the apartment to find out if he could feel anything.

For the first fifteen minutes, nothing happened. Then again, he kept bumping into things and thinking that he must look incredibly stupid, so his concentration was off. Frustrated, he moved to the middle of the main room, sat on the floor, and placed his hands flat on the floor. He cleared his mind as best he could – he was no Occlumens, after all – and thought the same thing over and over in his mind: 'show me hidden doorways'.

A short time later, he felt a pull toward the floor-length mirror in the hallway, and stood to follow the feeling. The mirror swung open rather easily (a simple alohomora) to reveal a passageway to what appeared to be someone else's rooms, judging by the many personal items sitting out. Interesting, but not what he needed, so he filed that away for later use and closed the mirror. Knowing Albus would be gone for several more hours, he sat back on the floor, and started again. In only a few minutes, he was drawn to the bathroom door. He tried a few simple spells, but this time nothing happened. Deciding to go with what worked, Harry stood silently in front of the door, wand away, and asked, 'how do I open the door?'.

Without conscious thought, his left hand rose to touch the ornate hinge in the middle of the edge of the door. Grasping the hinge in his hand, he twisted it to the right, as if it were a door knob. Opening his eyes, he saw the door opening to reveal a short hallway leading to a stone wall. He was momentarily confused, and started closing the door, when he realized that he already knew what needed to be done. He shut the door and put his hand back on the hinge that was really a handle, and thought 'show me Gryffindor'. He opened it again, and immediately saw a different scene. It was as if the stone wall was now made of colored glass, and through it he could see the Gryffindor common room. He stepped close, careful not to touch the see-through wall, and looked around. From the view he had of the room, he guessed he was standing directly behind that hideous stained glass panel that hung near the fireplace. Knowing the students would be in classes right now, he took a chance. This time, his alohamora worked fine, and seconds later he was standing in the empty common room. A smile crept across his face as he retreated to his home to finalize his plans.

**** end chapter ****

**Notes:** About 'concentrated magic in the blood'. It seems to me that magic can't normally be detected, or else there would be no question if a child was magical or a squib. But, when a person gets sick, their body naturally tries to fight the illness; so it stands to reason that when a magical person gets an infection, their 'magic' concentrates in their blood in an attempt to heal the infection. And like with muggle medicine, this can be measured for diagnosis.

A few details – Flora and Merriweather are named after the dedicated women who gave up their wands and lived as Muggles to keep a princess safe. And Harry's 'pudding' really was pudding, so the sentence works whether you're British or American.

Rhythmizer: a thin, pillow-like device that controls breathing and heart rate in a patient.


	27. The Grounding of Harry Potter

Legal Synopsis: This is the part where I go into how I don't actually own the characters, spells, etc. It's usually rather short. I try to make it funny, but probably don't succeed.

.

.

**27. The Grounding of Harry Potter**

Wednesday night, after Harry had completed his exploration and returned to his room, Hedwig arrived in the Great Hall, flying straight for Ginny. In addition to the note tied to her leg, she was carrying a single green flower with yellow on the tips of the petals in her beak. Ginny didn't recognize the bloom, but happily accepted it nonetheless, pointedly ignoring the alternating whistles and gagging noises from her follow Gryffindors. She saved the note until she was able to slip away to her room, where she pulled her curtains tight to keep out her pesky roommates. Having been expecting a steamy love note, she was a bit disappointed when it was instead a simple request. _'Be in the common room at midnight. I will wait until I know you are alone. BWL'_

The signature had made her giggle. Not long ago, Harry had overheard her referring to him as 'the Boy-Who-Lived', and had subjected her to a twenty minute rant on how much he hated that name. Since then, she had taken to calling him things like the 'boy-who-laughs', 'boy-with-lightning', and her favorite to date, if only for the way it made him turn red, 'boy-who's-large'. Now it seemed he was joining in her fun.

After most of her roommates had gone to sleep, she carefully selected just the right outfit – a comfortable, short but not-too-revealing nightgown with an open bathrobe over top. As midnight drew near, Ginny crept down the stairs and into the common room. Her patience had almost reached its end, but luckily Ron and Lavender had called it quits a few minutes ago, so it was safe to go down. She arrived to find that she was not completely alone; a fellow fifth year was hard at work on an essay. Ginny made a lame excuse about not being able to sleep, and settled down to read the book she had brought for just such a case. When the procrastinating git finally went up, Ginny shut her book and tossed it down as she made her way to the fireplace, stretching as she moved. She never heard the approaching footsteps, but when she felt arms wrap around her middle she laughed, saying, "best be careful Colin, Harry might be stopping by."

"Nice try, Gin, but that's not a camera in my pocket," a voice softly spoke into her ear.

Ginny twisted around so she was facing him and tilted her face up for a kiss, which he was only too happy to give. When they finally managed to break apart they moved to the couch, where he sat down, pulling her against his side. She rested her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her. They lost themselves for a time as they sat in silence, just enjoying being together, but eventually Harry remembered his purpose and started to speak. "I can't stay long, the Skipper isn't exactly the heaviest sleeper to begin with, and who knows when an emergency might wake him."

Ginny turned to face him, concerned. "Oh Harry, maybe you shouldn't be risking it. I mean, I love getting to see you, but I don't want to get you in any trouble."

Harry chuckled, pulling her closer as he tightened his arms round her to keep her from jumping up. "I'm always in some kind of trouble, didn't you know that? Besides, I kinda had something I needed to talk to you about. Why don't you get comfortable, and try not to interrupt, OK?"

Not wanting to show how anxious this serious turn had made her, Ginny complied, replacing her head on his shoulder. She allowed herself to relax a bit when he started drawing circles on her arm. Just when she was starting to wonder if something was wrong, he started. "Do you remember how I was this past summer?"

Ginny remembered, all right. "Yeah." She still had that awful letter he had written.

Harry continued, "Well, do you remember when I confessed that things were worse than I had led you to believe? But that I was getting help?"

Ginny shifted so her body was facing his, but kept her head on his shoulder and her face turned down instead of looking up at him as she suspected this would be easier for Harry to get through if he didn't have to look her in the eye as he spoke. "I remember, Harry. But you don't need to explain anything to me."

He gave her arm a light squeeze. "I love that you can say that, and you aren't pushing me for more information than I want to give. You almost make me feel guilty that I don't plan on telling you everything." Harry laughed when she abruptly turned to him, a suspicious look on her face. Taking her hands in his, he said, "I don't mean it in a bad way, I just don't think I can tell you all the details." He paused and took a few breaths, trying to face her while he talked, in spite of how hard that was. "OK, so when the Professor came to see me that night, I told him I was having trouble, like I said I would. I told him how I wasn't sleeping or eating well, which you knew. But what I you didn't know … what I was afraid to tell you … was that there were times when I thought about hurting myself."

He felt her body stiffen in his arms and quickly added, "not suicide, Ginny. I would never think about killing myself. It's just – understand that I already know that this is crazy – but last year when I had those awful detentions with Umbridge, my mind would focus on the pain, and I didn't have to think about any of my problems anymore. But Ginny, I never did hurt myself, I swear, and I never will." He had to pause to take another deep breath. "So, like I said, that night I told him my problems. And he decided that I needed to get out of there, and he took me to his home, and we, well, we decided to be each other's family. That's how he became my guardian.

"After that, he arranged for me to see a therapist; that's a muggle doctor that helps people with problems like mine. Dr. Tony's a muggle with a sister who's a witch, so he knows about magic, but not all of that 'boy who lived to be a nutter' crap. And he's really helped me with a lot of stuff. At first, I saw him every week, but now I'm only seeing him once a month."

Ginny quickly put things together. "So, when you are supposed to be donating time in the Hospital Wing, you're really seeing this Dr. Tony?"

"Yeah, either Professor Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall meet me there and take me to the appointment. It's in some muggle village; I don't actually know exactly where. And Professor McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey don't know what the appointments are for; although I'm sure they both have a pretty good idea by now. I get the feeling I'm not the first student that has needed Dr. Tony's help."

Ginny felt herself close to tears. Yes, she had known it was a bad summer, but Merlin, what if he had done something? She pushed those thought aside until later – she needed to appear strong for Harry. "Thank you for telling me this, I'm touched that you trust me that much. But, if you're better, why tell me now?"

"Well, you need to know everything so you can decide if you want to run far, far away from me while you still have the chance." Harry laughed while he said this, but it had a forced sound.

"Harry, if I was going to run screaming from you, I think it would have been last year, when you tried to pull that 'you can't come with us because it's too dangerous' junk. What makes you think I would leave now?"

Harry shook his head, saying "I didn't think you would, but I had to give you one last chance."

Ginny laughed. "One last chance? What, after today, I'm not allowed to leave you?"

"Exactly, after today you can't leave me, because after today, I couldn't survive without you." Harry swallowed, as his throat was suddenly dry. _'Come on Potter, just say it_.' "See, I'm giving you my heart Ginny, and if you leave now, you would take it with you, and I don't think I could survive." _'Did that sound corny?'_

Ginny was speechless. She looked into his eyes, trying to see the truth there. "Harry, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I love you. I thought that was obvious." Harry pulled back and looked off in the distance. "Geez, I really am hopeless with women, aren't I?"

"No Harry, I think you are doing just fine. But if you ever try to tell any other woman what you just told me, hopeless won't even begin to describe you." And Ginny launched herself into Harry's arms. "And I love you too." It was approaching 3:00 A.M. before he made it back to his bedroom.

Harry slept in Thursday morning, claiming that he must have pushed his magic too far the day before (which was partially true) when he sat down for lunch. Albus seemed to accept the excuse, but when he casually mentioned his own trouble sleeping the previous night because the house elves made more noise than usual while cleaning, Harry knew he'd been caught. Deciding that nothing short of the truth would work here, he sheepishly admitted to using the bathroom doorway to visit Ginny.

For his part, Albus had trouble deciding which emotion should come first: pride that Harry had found the doorway on his own, or disappointment that he had left their rooms after being specifically told not to. Putting a frown on his face, he went with disappointed. After starting with phrases like 'I'm very disappointed' and 'did you even think before you acted', he launched into the whole 'the rules are to protect you, not punish you' speech.

Harry, of course, had been told he was a disappointment quite often by the Dursleys, and over the years it had lost its bite. But this was the first time Albus had said it; and Harry squirmed in his seat, suddenly regretting his trip. In a flat voice, he said, "I'm sorry, Sir, that I disappointed you. I shouldn't have gone out after you told me not to."

Albus gave Harry a penetrating look as he asked, "Then why did you?"

Pushing his half-eaten plate away, Harry slumped back in his seat as he tried to explain. "When I was in the hospital wing, I couldn't help but think about how quickly it could have ended. I guess I just started thinking about how much I want to live, which reminded me of that last part in the prophecy – 'neither can live while the other survives'. It doesn't really make sense, you know? I mean, I'm alive and surviving, and technically so is Voldemort, so obviously it can't mean literally _be_ alive. I think it means to _feel_ alive. That makes sense, because in a way, I haven't felt alive since I heard the stupid thing; I've rather put my life on hold so I can defeat him. And suddenly that seemed like a stupid thing to do, so I just decided, stuff the prophecy; I'm going to live now. You told me once it's our choices that are important. Well, I choose ignore it, or that part anyway." It was a great speech, Harry thought, even if it had been delivered more to the table-top than to Albus' face.

Albus clapped his hands together, saying, "Well done, Harry. I wasn't certain you realized that the prophecy is not set in stone; that there is a choice."

Harry looked up, a small smile forming on his face. "Yeah, I realize that I have some choice in it. I know I can't change all of it. Some of it's already come true, like he already marked me as his equal. And I know that my decision only affects me. Voldemort has already made his choice; he's chosen to believe in it, even though he's only heard part of it, so he's still going to come after me. I mean, it's not like he and I can share a bottle of Ogden's finest and agree to forget about it, right?" He paused while Albus nodded his head sorrowfully. "Thought so. So I guess I know that it really will come down to me and him, cause when he comes – which we both know he will – I _will_ fight until one of us is finished. But until that happens, I refuse to put my entire life on hold for him any longer."

Harry grew quiet for a moment, his chest slightly heaving from the adrenalin his speech had stirred. Albus remained quiet, and Harry spent a moment thinking about those hated words. He finally broke the silence, admitting "It replays itself in my mind quite often, you know. I hear those words at the strangest times, like when I'm in the shower or while I'm waiting for class in the hallway. But you know what I wonder about the most? That whole 'one with the power' part. That part seems rather specific, like maybe there's some truth to it. But does that mean that I'm the only one that can vanquish him, or destroy him, or whatever?"

Albus responded, "I have no doubt but that you do have the power to destroy him, Harry. And while I applaud both your contemplation of the prophecy and your decision regarding it, I'm afraid I don't understand why your epiphany caused you to leave our rooms last night."

Harry blushed a bit as he tried to casually answer, "Oh, well, Ginny is sort of part of my choice, I really want her to be a part of my life, so I had to ask her about it."

"Ah," Albus replied, "that makes sense. But surely you realize that your conversation could have waited until your supposed return to the castle? There could have been severe consequences for both of us if you had been caught, not to mention the questions that could have arisen concerning the true identity of your guardian."

"I guess I hadn't really considered the trouble it could have caused you. I was very careful, though. I watched through the glass until Ginny was alone, and I cast warning spells so we would know if anyone came down the stairs or opened the portrait. But as for that last part … I didn't exactly give anything away. Ginny has known about you since Halloween." Sensing he was digging himself a deeper hole, he rushed to explain. "I didn't tell her so much as just confirm her theory. She had already worked most of it out. At first she thought it was Uncle Abe, but when I told her it wasn't, she put the rest of it together. But she won't tell anyone, I know she won't."

Albus already knew the truth of Harry's words, but he wanted to stress the seriousness of situation to him, so he asked, "You trust her with this secret? With your very life?"

Harry looked him straight in the eye when he replied. "With my very life, yes." Then he stumbled for a moment, before adding, "I love her, and she loves me too."

Albus gave Harry an appraising look, doing that over-the-glasses thing that he did so well. "In that case, perhaps we need to have a different kind of talk."

Harry turned a deep red. "_NO!_ I mean, I'm covered. Remember, Doctor Bombay already gave me that talk, and you gave me that book. Thanks for that, by the way, it's been, er, _helpful_." He was squirming again in his seat, praying to anyone who would listen that Albus didn't ask how helpful.

Albus finally nodded, a large smile on his face. There was laughter in his voice as he said, "I am relieved to know that it has been helpful. I do trust you understand that just because certain things are physically possible does not mean that they must be done?" He chuckled at the brisk nod of Harry's head. "Than we shall leave that topic, and move on to your punishment."

That snapped Harry back to attention. He looked at his guardian for a moment before nodding in understanding. "Right. Punishment. I did go out after you told me not to, so I guess that makes sense. I'm just not used to it."

"Nor I Harry. I find myself woefully unprepared for this. As a teacher and headmaster, this seemed a much easier task. I dare say that writing lines does not seem appropriate in this instance. I have deliberated on this matter a great deal this morning, and have decided that for the remainder of your convalescence, you will be confined to your bedroom whenever I am not in attendance. It was very wise of you to confess; otherwise your punishment would have been much more severe."

Confined to your room, that was a punishment Harry knew well. At least the room was bigger than his old cupboard, right? "All right. Will you be locking me in?"

"Good heavens, no. I would never condone locking you in a room as punishment. It would be cruel, not to mention the sanitary concerns." Albus suspected he understood why Harry asked the question, and found the casualness in which he had done so troubling. "This will not be like what your relatives did to you. You will have matters to keep you occupied; books to read, your wand if you want to practice spells, and even your schoolwork, though that last bit is perhaps more expected than merely allowed. I only ask your word that you will abide by my terms."

"Yes, Sir. You have my word," he solemnly stated, and Albus knew that he would keep his word. After finishing lunch, Harry bade Albus good-bye and went to his room, taking Moving with Magic with him. But if he had thought he was bored before, it was nothing compared to now. In truth, there wasn't much different, as he had access to all the same materials as before. He had even found a nifty loophole in that he could stand in his doorway and summon more books as he wanted them, thus giving him new reading materials without leaving the room. And of course, he had access to his favorite paperback books, for the truly private moments.

Nonetheless, by Friday evening, he was sick of books of all types. Albus seemed to have back-to-back meetings all day and well into the evening, so he had spent the entire day in his room, minus quick bathroom breaks, and he could only stretch those out so much before guilt would send him back to the bedroom. It was this boredom that had him lying on his back across his bed, his mind drifting. He covered lots of topics that evening: thinking up new items for the twins' joke shop, wondering how Dudley was doing, and trying to figure out what exactly Ron saw in Lavender Brown. Deciding there was no solving that particular mystery, he shifted to another - the Horcruxes.

Truthfully, he hadn't given them much more than superficial consideration since he'd gone into Voldemort's mind. Back then, they had planned to put Harry's memory of the vision in the pensieve to study at length. Unfortunately, he had freaked out at seeing himself and in the aftermath of proving he wasn't a Horcrux himself, their follow-up on the rest had fallen through the cracks. An uncharacteristic oversight on the Headmaster's part, that was. But now, as Harry replayed the 'vision' in his mind, he noticed a few things of interest. First, that locket seemed familiar, but as he was certain he had never been in that cave, he couldn't place why. Something else caught his attention. _Ravenclaw's tiara in a cluttered room – the door disappearing after it was closed, _that's what he had seen. He tried to focus on the scene, paying more attention to the hallway. And suddenly it hit him; he knew that disappearing door. He's used it quite often last year, both for the DA, and when he just needed some time alone. It was the Room of Requirement, he would bet money on it.

Too excited to wait, especially not knowing when Albus would return, he jumped from his bed and called Dobby. He asked the eager elf to let the Headmaster know that 'his guest had exciting news about a piece of head-ware'. The message would sound like gibberish to anyone else, but he believed it would peak Albus' curiosity enough that the man would return home soon.

About thirty minutes later, Albus returned to find an energized Harry standing in the threshold of his bedroom. The moment he saw Albus, he ran into the sitting room trying to explain his theory as he moved. In the end, Albus had to make him sit down and take deep breaths while counting to ten, even threatening a calming draught, before Harry was able to coherently tell his tale. Bringing forth his pensieve, he and Harry entered the vision, paying close attention to the brief look they had of both the room, and the outside hallway.

Once out of the pensieve, they moved into chairs in Albus' office and sat in thoughtful silence. Albus leaned back, stroking his beard absent-mindedly as he mentally examined the evidence. It certainly made sense, especially as he remembered the man applying for the Defense position knowing he hadn't a prayer of being hired. Finally, Albus broke the silence. "Very well done, Harry. You did an excellent job of deduction, and do not think that I have not noticed that you put your alone time to good use instead of moping in your bed."

Harry felt himself turning red, both from embarrassment and guilt. Embarrassment because he didn't think Albus realized how most teenage boys would interpret the phrase 'putting your alone time to good use'. And guilt, because lying on his bed all night 'thinking' was awfully close to moping. But on the other hand, it had allowed him to solve the mystery of the tiara. Thinking of which, "So, when should we go get it?"

Albus studied his desk top for a moment, rather odd considering it was empty, and then sighed. He explained to Harry that as much as they would both like to retrieve the Horcrux right now, doing so would not be prudent. Harry was barely recovered from his illness, and Albus had meetings that he had cancelled last weekend that simply could not be put off again. But not to fear, he was certain the Horcrux was perfectly safe where it was. Until they could retrieve it, he would announce at breakfast that a certain seventh floor corridor was off limits, for fear of death. '_Oh yeah, because that worked sooo well my first year.'_ As an added precaution, Albus intended to require the room to be unavailable until he summoned it. He could not say for certain that such a requirement would work, but it was worth trying.

If Harry had thought that his discovery would get him out of serving the rest of his punishment, he was sorely mistaken. As he went to his room, he was politely reminded that tomorrow he was to remain there until Professor McGonagall came to escort him back to the tower. He spent the better part of his Saturday morning in his room mastering a nifty spell written in the crease of his Potions book that, according to the original owner, was 'to keep this hidden'. To Harry's delight, it transfigured books into little glass bottles. Now he could take his paperback books back to the dorm without fear.

That afternoon Harry returned to the common room to be swarmed by his friends. As Ginny practically squeezed the breath of out him, Hermione stood back giving them a knowing smile. When it was her turn to give him a hug, she whispered "Something's changed with Ginny. You'd better talk."

Glancing at Ginny, he could see what Hermione meant. Ginny looked radiant. Harry had heard that word used to describe women before, but had never understood it; now he did. To him, she seemed brighter, happier, more beautiful. It was as if her happiness was a physical thing, and it was spreading away from her, infecting everyone around. He also noticed she was wearing her necklace – the one he had given her for her birthday, the one they had found out was a betrothal necklace. Harry was smiling as he pulled away. "Yeah, the three of us can go for a walk later." Louder he said, "Hey Neville, thanks for the Chocolate Frogs, but I thought you didn't approve of those."

Neville laughed, "Nah, I like the cards just fine, but I can't eat a frog without thinking of Trevor." The whole group laughed at that, even Ron. Harry was glad to see that, as Ron's greeting hadn't been as enthusiastic as the rest. It had been a week since the two of them had cleared the air, and Harry wondered if they would ever get back to their previous closeness. '_Not with Lavender hanging on him, we won't.'_

Neville turned to see what had Harry's attention. Beyond the rest of the group, Ron stood behind Lavender, his arms wrapped around her waist. Wait a minute, make that arm. For clearly, his right arm disappeared under Lavender's blouse. Neville leaned toward Harry. "No worry, mate, you and Ginny don't even come close to that display." Thanking Neville for what he took as a compliment, Harry took a seat next to Hermione and soon found himself going over her notes from Potions, not sure how that had happened.

He woke early on Sunday, eager for his first training session. It was a bit of a let down. Tonks was supposed to work with him that day, but was called to the ministry only 20 minutes into the lesson. Apologizing, she handed him a worn, soft-bound book, saying it was her study guide during Auror training. She wanted him to read it over, and pick some interesting things to learn. "Everything in there is useful, might as well make it fun at the same time." And with that, Harry found himself with a lot of free time he hadn't expected.

Using his cloak, he snuck up behind Ginny and Hermione, who were huddled at a table in the common room. Yelling 'boo', he nearly fell over in laughter at the girls' reactions. And it was a good thing he was doubled over, or else he'd have been hit with Ginny's Bat Bogey Hex and something from Hermione that he suspected was a Lockjaw Hex. After being sufficiently chastised, and slugged once in the arm, Harry settled in for that promised talk.

Working together, Harry and Ginny told Hermione about their private date on Wednesday, and their 'declarations of undying love', as Ginny phrased it. Harry had a confused look at her choice of words, then shrugged his shoulders. She had it about right, he reckoned. The hard part came when Hermione wanted to know how they had managed to meet when Harry was supposed to be _at his guardian's house_. Ginny just shrugged, letting Harry know he had to handle this one himself.

Harry didn't like keeping secrets from Hermione, especially when she was so good at figuring things out, but he knew he'd be knee-deep in dragon dung if he told anyone else the Skipper's identity. "The thing is, I never actually left the castle. The Skipper is really busy with his work right now, and he couldn't take care of me full time" – '_That's all true.' –_ "It was Professor Dumbledore's idea to have me stay in the castle, in a location I cannot disclose, except that I will tell you it's so secret it's not even on my map. Anyway, I snuck out one night so I could see Ginny," here he held up his hand, "and before you start the lecture you can save it, because I already got it. The Headmaster found out what I had done, and he wouldn't let me leave my bedroom unless he was with me for the rest of the week. Except for bathroom breaks, of course."

Hermione started laughing. "Oh Harry, you mean you were grounded. I think that's fabulous." Seeing his face, she continued, "Come on, I don't mean it like that. It's just, in normal families, kids get grounded all the time, and you're always wanting to be normal, and now you kind of are."

The three of them spent the rest of the morning joking and talking, before Ginny and Harry excused themselves for a broom race. The rest of the week went by fast, and before he knew it, it was Hogsmeade Saturday. Looking forward to another trip into the village with Ginny, he was taken aback when Hedwig brought him a message. After he read the short note from Albus telling him 'it was time' and asking him to come to his office after dinner, he thanked Hedwig for her services, feeding her the rest of his sausage. It seemed today was going to be a very busy day.

**** end chapter ****

**Notes:** none that I can think of.


	28. A variety of snakes

Note to self: you don't own this, you don't own this, you don't own this …

.

.

**28. A variety of snakes**

Harry pushed aside the thrill of tonight's hunt as he helped Ginny stand from the breakfast table. He and Ginny had a date in Hogsmeade to enjoy, and he fully intended to do so instead of obsessing about tonight's activities. Most of Harry's friends had brought their outdoor cloaks with them so they managed to be among the first to leave the castle and head to the village. The friends enjoyed the walk, glad that the weather was mild, with little snow on the ground despite it being late February. As they arrived in Hogsmeade they split into smaller groups for shopping, many agreeing to meet at The Three Broomsticks for lunch.

Leaving the rest behind, Harry guided Ginny toward their first destination. He wanted to formally introduce Ginny to his uncle. The gruff man seemed pleased to be introduced to his favorite nephew's girlfriend. Harry had tried to point out he was the man's only nephew, but Abe snickered as he qualified Harry's remark – 'only one we know about.' As the couple enjoyed their free mugs of warm Butterbeer, Abe shared one of his favorite stories about his brother; this one about his disastrous first date with Bathsheba Prewett, which ended before it could begin when Albus accidentally turned her mother into an oriental rug while trying to show off. Ginny laughed so hard she almost choked, and she swore to ask her mother if Bathsheba was a relative.

Eventually the pub started to fill, and the couple decided it was time to leave. They spent the rest of their morning doing a bit of shopping before finally making their way toward The Three Broomsticks. As they took a shortcut down a side street, Harry stopped short when he heard the sound of a girl crying. Now, Harry really didn't like dealing with crying girls ('avoiding them like the plague' is how he often described it), but when he recognized the girl his _'saving people thing'_ kicked into gear, and he pulled Ginny toward the sound.

A few steps off the beaten path was Hannah Abbott, Harry's fellow Arithmancy O.W.L. student, leaning against a tree. She was rubbing her face as if she didn't want anyone to find her crying. An astonished Ginny watched as her boyfriend approached the embarrassed Hufflepuff and began speaking, casually asking her what her plans were for the day without the slightest hint that he had just caught her crying. After a bit of coaxing Hannah explained that her friend Susan had made a last-minute lunch date, abandoning her for the rest of day. She confessed that she was uncomfortable being left alone ever since her mother's near-death at the hands of Death Eaters earlier in the school year. By unspoken consent the two invited her to join their group for lunch, and she eagerly accepted, glad for the company.

Entering the inn, Harry scanned the room and spotted Neville and Hermione already seated at a large table near the back. He was surprised when he recognized Terry Boot sitting next to Hermione, but judging by the smug look on Ginny's face, the boy's presence wasn't by accident. The three had just made it to the table when Luna Lovegood entered alone, and Ginny motioned for her to join as well, making it a diverse but lively crowd around their table. Since there were new people to the group conversation was stilted at first, but by the time the food was arriving, they had mellowed and everyone seemed to be enjoying each other. After the food had been eaten Harry treated everyone to Butterbeer, and the conversation turned away from school and toward non-consequential things (by silent agreement all talk of the war had been avoided).

Luna's contribution to the discussion had caught everyone's attention. She was explaining about a new animal that had been spotted at the London Zoo, which she said looked like an ordinary elephant but was really a nauga, with the ability to make people throw peanuts at it by looking them in their eye. As she continued her description of the strange animal, Ginny could see that Hermione was about to lose her self-battle to not argue with the blond. So when Luna stopped to take a drink, Ginny blurted out, "I'd love to go to a muggle zoo some time. You've been, haven't you Harry?"

This surprised Neville, who asked, "When did you ever go to a zoo, Harry? I thought your family didn't take you anywhere?"

Harry offhandedly replied, "Oh, well, one time for Dudley's birthday, no one could watch me, so they had to take me along. It was rather enjoyable, all things considered."

Hermione got a far-away look for a moment before jumping in her seat as she exclaimed: "I remember! In second year, you said, 'I did set a boa constrictor on my cousin once.' That's the trip you're talking about isn't it?"

Harry was flabbergasted at his friend's memory. "Yeah, that's the trip. How did you remember that? We had that conversation, what, four years ago? I mean, I can only assume that you are quoting correctly, I can't remember word for word."

Hermione blushed. "Well, it was rather important at the time. You _had_ just revealed that you could speak parseltongue to the school. You never did tell us the whole story."

So Harry told the tale of his first - and only - trip to the zoo. By the time he was done recounting Dudley and his friend's descriptions of their 'vicious attack', his audience was in stitches, even Hannah and Terry, who admittedly weren't as comfortable with Harry's parseltongue abilities as the others.

Ginny smiled slyly, turning to Harry to say, "I'd like to go there some time, and see this killer snake for myself. What do you think, Harry, can I meet your snake some time?"

To the rest of the group, this sounded like an honest question, but Harry was all too aware of the hand on his leg, hidden from view, that was slowly moving up his thigh. He looked his girlfriend directly in the eye, as he put his hand on top of hers and guided the wayward hand even higher in a silent dare, and replied, "I'd love for you to meet my snake some time. Maybe I can coax it out of its cage and you can hold it."

Hermione noticed the way her two friends were gazing at each other, and decided that their conversation might not be as innocent as it sounded. Unfortunately, no one else had figured this out yet, as evidenced by Hannah's comment, "I've never held a snake before. What's it like?"

Harry smiled as he replied, "They can be shy at first, but once you start stroking them, they don't want you to stop, and they let you know it. They feel warm in your hands, and are very smooth to the touch." He glanced back at Ginny as he said this last part, and was pleased to notice a light blush on her cheeks.

"Really?" Neville said. "I would have thought they would be rough. You know, from the scales." Although Neville was speaking to Harry, the other boy was watching his girlfriend intently, which Neville found decidedly odd. And come to think of it, both of their hands seemed to be missing. Suddenly, Neville - who wasn't as naive as others always took him to be – figured out what was going on. Deciding to have some fun, he looked at Hermione and asked, "What about you, Hermione? Have you ever held a snake?"

Harry turned to Neville as he said this, and caught the other boy's wink. _'Neville, you dog.'_

Now Hermione was indeed a bright witch, but in this instance her intellect failed her, for she had no idea that Neville knew Harry and Ginny were not talking about reptiles. And so, she gave an honest answer. "Actually, I have. Harry's right, it was surprisingly smooth. But truth be told, I found the whole thing to be a bit intimidating. I mean, it was so big, and it kept wiggling. I had to use both hands just to keep a firm hold on it."

By this point, Terry – Ravenclaw that he was – had picked up the undercurrent of the conversation and was trying not to laugh. Neville kept his face neutral as he replied, "Maybe you just need someone to show you the right way to hold it?"

Hermione gave Neville a funny look. Did he know how that sounded?

Luna, who up to this point had appeared more interested in her drink than the conversation, finally spoke up. "It must be fascinating to talk to a snake. I imagine they have such interesting things to say."

Under the table, Ginny pulled her hand off Harry's thigh, and moved her fingertips to his stomach, just above the waist band of his jeans. She loved it when he wore muggle clothes. Smiling innocently, she said, "Oh, wouldn't that be special. What do you say, Harry? Do you think I can talk to your snake?"

Harry shifted closer to Ginny as he replied, "Nothing would make me happier. I can even teach you the right way to do it."

"Don't be ridiculous, Harry," Hermione cut in, "none of us can talk to snakes."

"I'm sure I can teach Ginny to talk to my snake. It's all in the tongue." He winked at his girlfriend as he said this, noticing too late the evil smile on her face. He had to fake a cough to cover his moan as he felt Ginny's fingers dip under his waistband. His _snake_ was definitely wanting to talk to Ginny now.

Neville looked right at Hermione, who was turning an interesting shade of red at Harry's comment, and decided to have one last bit of fun. As Hermione took another sip of her Butterbeer, he said, "I'm not picky, I would settle for someone just petting my snake." And with that, Hermione nearly spit her drink across the table. It was at that moment that she realized that Neville wasn't as innocent as he looked. Even Hannah had caught on, and she too was looking at Neville in a new light.

By this point, Harry and Ginny had clearly forgotten that they were not alone. They didn't even notice as the others finished up and left. But some time later, they would truly appreciate the notice-me-not charm Hermione had cast on her way out the door.

-000-

The trip to the village had ended, in Harry's opinion, much too soon; and in no time dinner was over and he was on his way to find another Horcrux. Hidden under his cloak, he followed Albus to the Room of Requirement, one thought on his mind: _am I ready to go to the next level with Ginny?_ Oh, he knew he should be focused on the task at hand, but that was proving hard, er, difficult. So deep was he in thought that he plowed right into Albus' back side, never noticing his leader stop nor the third person in the hall.

"Ah, Severus, I see you have taken my warning to heart, and are keeping the students away from this location. Have there been any intruders?" Albus had asked the right question; Snape forgot all about the strange noise he had just heard to give his report.

"Misters Malfoy and Goyle walked past earlier, but did not appear to be trying to enter, and left the area without incident. I apprehended Mister Weasley and Miss Brown this afternoon, heading for what I assume was to be a sordid groping session, though given Weasley's lack of finesse on the broom, one wonders how enjoyable it would have been for Miss Brown. I took 20 points each from Gryffindor and assigned detentions. There have been no others that I have seen, but I am certain your golden boy will make an appearance at some point. The promise of imminent death will be too much for him to resist."

Albus surreptitiously reached behind himself to squeeze Harry's arm in an attempt to remind him to control himself. "Twenty points each and detention, you say? I seem to recollect an incident in your Seventh Year near the Astronomy Tower with a certain Miss Abercromby. As I recall, you argued that points alone should be the penalty for being out of bounds as there was no proof of anything illicit."

Snape gritted his teeth. "And I am certain you also recall that I did not win that argument."

Albus smiled, "Yes, of course. I merely bring it up to remind you what life is like for an enchanted young couple."

Harry thought that was a rather strange way to describe horny teenagers, but then, his guardian was a rather strange man. He heard Albus politely but firmly dismiss Snape, saying he hoped to clear the area tonight. It was apparent that Snape was curious what the real problem was, but refrained himself from asking. With a curt nod, he turned and stormed out of the area, no doubt hoping to catch more students breaking rules before turning in for the night. When he was out of range, Albus cast spells on both ends of the corridor to repel unwanted guests – '_I wonder why he didn't just do that in the first place?'_ – and motioned for Harry to remove his cloak and get to work.

Moving into position, Harry began to pace, all the while thinking _'I need to see the room in my dream'_. The door appeared, and Harry opened it to reveal, not a cluttered storage room as expected, but the tower room he and Ginny frequented, albeit with a bed where the sofa belonged. Instantly feeling hot under the collar, Harry mumbled something about the wrong dream and pulled the door closed. By the twinkle in Albus' eye, he feared he would hear about this later.

Pacing again, he tried to be as specific as possible. The last thing he needed was to see where Riddle used to snog girls, if he even did (that thought sent a shudder down Harry's spine). He thought 'I need the room where Riddle hid the tiara.' Deciding it was better to be safe than sorry, he opened the door just a crack, only pushing it wide open when it appeared to be right this time.

Stepping into the room, they were able to see that finding the crown would be no easy feat. The place was practically over-flowing with junk. Harry moved to the closest pile, noticing the empty sherry bottles mixed in with several potions vials, many of those still full. Looking around, he was sure he spotted a firewhisky label or two, and what looked like a box of Ton-Tongue Toffee. Scanning the room, he could tell that it had been in use for ages – there was an old suit of armor, its head hopelessly bashed in, wearing an out-of-style set of Slytherin Quidditch robes. Off to the other side he saw a racing broom that he recognized from a magazine – the Cosmic Shooter, not sold since the 1700's, recognizable by its star-shaped end. It had clearly been here for some time. Most telling, perhaps, was the vanishing cabinet that had been broken just last year. That meant the room was definitely still in use. Albus spoke up from where he was looking in a trunk, "It appears we have found the castle's lost and found. Perhaps this summer we should have a yard sale, and dispose of some of these treasures, as there is no doubt their owners will not be claiming them."

Both finished their rummaging and Harry stood back as Albus moved to a clear area. He began slowly turning himself around, his wand drawn and pointing directly in front of him. It was leaving a trail of light blue mist in its wake, so that when Albus came to a stop he was surrounded by a perfect circle.

"I can detect no magical repellants in the room. But then, Voldemort is very good at his magic, so that is not surprising. Still, it leaves us with a room full of items and no discernable way to search for one amid the masses." He seemed to be deep in thought for a moment. "Perhaps your connect with Voldemort's magic would suit us today?"

Harry reluctantly agreed, and tried to concentrate on any feelings from Voldemort in hopes of feeling his 'presence' in the room. After a few minutes it was clear it wouldn't work. "Sorry, but I can't tell. It doesn't always seem to be there."

"Ah, well, in the grander scheme of things, we should be relieved that is the case. It was perhaps a mistake on my part to have you even try, given the catastrophe that could have befallen us had you mistakenly reached Voldemort and not just his Horcrux. In any event, we shall have to search in a more mundane manner."

Harry agreed and the two walked further into the room, Albus moving a short way down one of the aisles while Harry hung back and picked up an old book. He wasn't really looking for the tiara, instead he was thinking about Albus' out-of-character 'oops' moment. In the past he was sure he would have voiced his reluctance before acting, and he couldn't help but wonder why he had not done so now. Try as he might, he could not come up with a reason, but he did promise himself that he would be more vocal in the future so such mistakes could be avoided.

"Eureka!" Albus suddenly shouted, pulling Harry from his thought. He spun around, expecting to see Albus holding the tiara. Instead, he found the old man quickly returning to him – empty handed – but clearly as excited as a school boy.

"Of course, it is so simple that I very nearly overlooked it," Albus told him. "I asked you to reach out to the wrong magic. After all, Voldemort's is not the only magic you are attuned to. Do you think, Harry, you would be willing to try an experiment?"

Harry looked at his guardian, a surprised look dawning on his face as he figured out what Albus was going on about. He allowed himself to be maneuvered into a nearby chair (looking remarkably like one of those the Headmaster liked to conjure), and closed his eyes as he got comfortable. Then he inhaled slowly, and reached out to feel the castle's magic. After only a moment, he exclaimed, "I feel it. It's comfortable, like a warm blanket, and welcoming."

The twinkle in Albus' eyes could have lit the entire room on the darkest of nights, at least it would if it was as bright as Harry imagined it must be. Albus stooped down to Harry's level, and spoke softly to the boy. "Now, holding on to that comfort, reach out and see if you can sense anything else. Do you feel anything?"

Harry was quiet for a moment, his slow breathing an indication of how immersed he was in the magic of the room. He slowly nodded his head and smiled, not even aware he was doing so as he said, "Yes, there's lots of stuff. Lots of feelings, fear, excitement, and something … desperation, maybe? But it's all vague, like I can't really touch it."

"To be expected," Albus intoned. "The need to hide ones things is not normally associated with happiness. Now, concentrate again on the comfort, and tell me if you feel anything else; something different, unfriendly or perhaps something trying to stay hidden."

As Harry relaxed into the feeling, he seemed to sink deeper into the chair, his head falling back. When he spoke again, it was barely a whisper, "there is something else now, a familiar magic, and it feels almost hostile. It's like when I can feel Voldemort, only quieter, or softer. It's hard to describe."

"Good, good. Do you think you can find the source of this feeling?"

Instead of answering, Harry raised his right arm, and held his hand out as if waiting for someone to hand something to him. After a few seconds, Albus heard a rattling, and when he turned to look, he saw the tiara floating toward the outstretched hand.

Just as it would have touched Harry's skin, Albus used the hem of his robe to catch it. Holding the tiara at arms length, he told Harry to stop concentrating and open his eyes. Laughing, he added, "Forgive me for saying so, but I truly did not expect that to work. Once again, you surprise me, my boy." And giving Harry a pat on his shoulder, he moved away to begin the task of destroying the Horcrux.

It was, Harry felt, rather anti-climactic. After helping retrieve the ring, he had expected something more – exploding furniture, or maybe biting booze bottles, or _something_. Shrugging, Harry decided not to question their luck, and arose from the chair to see what Albus was going to do next.

A short distance from where Harry had been sitting, Albus had pulled forth an old table that was about to fall apart, and with a couple of swishes of his wand, the table was clean, whole, and sturdy again. He pulled a cloth sack from one of his robe pockets and set it on the table. As the sack fell open, the items inside seemed to resize so that on the table were a deep iron cauldron, a silver flask, and a flat piece of circular black metal about a quarter of an inch thick. Albus placed the tiara inside the cauldron and motioned Harry to come closer.

He explained, "I thought we would try something a bit different. There are, after all, other ways to destroy a Horcrux, and by employing an alternate method, we can conserve the remaining basilisk venom, as it has other uses to which it could be employed. We would not want you to have to run out and slay another basilisk, now would we?"

Harry was surprised that his guardian was joking at a time like this, but he joined in the laughter. "I think I could manage another one, but we would probably have to wrestle it away from Hagrid first, and that would prove to be the real challenge."

"Quite true," Albus said with a laugh. "But for now, let us get on with the task at hand. I need you to hold the flask, and do not touch the cauldron, as I work." When Harry was in place, flask in hand, Albus began. A stream of fire hit the tiara, crackling loudly as it tried to consume all it touched. Albus watched closely, and just as the flame began to lick at the lip of the cauldron, he levitated the flat metal over the cauldron and, dropped it on top of the opening, and caused the metal to melt into a tight seal. The flames were trapped inside the cauldron, and would stay there until they had burned themselves out, well after having consumed all that lie inside. Albus explained that the cauldron and lid were made of a heavy iron that was impervious to Fiendfyre. "Now, we wait for the cauldron to cool."

Harry started to nod before realizing they had forgotten something. "But Professor, what about the flask?"

Albus merely smiled, and took the flask from Harry. Uncapping the lid, he brought the flask to his mouth, and took a sip. "Ah, not as refined as Confederate Firewhisky, but it hits the spot. Something to calm the nerves, Harry?" He passed the flask to Harry, who brought it to his nose and sniffed. It smelled like alcohol. Looking to his guardian, and seeing him give an encouraging nod, Harry took a sip. Yep, definitely firewhisky, and this time there was no ex-Professor in sight; he'd learned that lesson. Albus took the flask back, and holding it up, said "cheers". He took another drink, then tried to pass it back to Harry.

Now, it would be misleading to say that Harry had only had that one experience with alcohol. Right after that fiasco with Slughorn, Harry had sworn to himself that he would not drink again, but then Uncle Abe had served him Veela wine on his date with Ginny, and then he had gotten his own bottle of firewhisky for Christmas, which of course he had sampled. But Albus offering him the drink – especially after the telling off they had both received from Professor McGonagall – caused him to hesitate. He looked to Albus as if to ask if this was truly alright.

Albus seemed to have no trouble interpreting the look (Harry really was an open book to a skilled Legilimens), and laughed; this time a full out, no holds barred laugh. "Certainly you are not afraid of Minerva, Harry." As Harry still did not take the flask, he continued, "well, perhaps is it best that you are, seeing as she is your Head of House. But trust me in this, there is not enough whiskey in this flask to get either one of us inebriated, let alone both. Besides, I happen to know for a fact that she is locked away in her rooms for the evening, so she is unlikely to know. In other words, my dear boy, when the cat's away the mice will play." And laughing at his own joke, he helped himself to another drink before pressing the flask into Harry's open hand.

Harry took a full swig this time before pushing the flask back toward Albus. Like before, he could feel the warmth spreading though his body, and once again felt like he was safe and comfortable. He vaguely noticed the feeling was quite similar to how he felt when immersed in the castle's magic. He was pulled from his musings when Albus announced it was 'done'. Startled, Harry looked up, surprised that his laughing, drinking guardian had been replaced so quickly by the serious Headmaster. Had he just had a fleeting glimpse of the real man; not the defeater of Grindelwald and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot; but Albus, the boy that gave tours to his brother's goats? He rather thought he had, and it made him feel warmer than any firewhisky ever could.

Albus removed the seal from the cauldron, and the tell-tale stream of black vapor floated up and evaporated. Harry realized as he watched that they were another step closer to victory, but also another step closer to the inevitable show down. Albus must have noticed his mood, for he gave him another drink before putting the flask away. Having cleaned up the area, the two had turned toward the door to go their separate ways, when Harry abruptly cried out and fell to his knees, his hands pressed to his scar.

"No," he screamed, in a high-pitched voice that sounded little like his own, "my Nagini, no!" He continued to cry out as his body shook for about five minutes, Albus watching helplessly as he crouched down next to him. When the trembling stopped Harry collapsed onto the floor, and was unable to do anything beyond roll to his side as he vomited roughly. After his stomach stopped convulsing, he became aware of someone holding him tightly against their body and gently rubbing his back. He could feel himself still shaking, and grabbed onto the person – it had to be Albus, his mind registered – for support. Laying his head on his guardian's shoulder, he took a few breaths before he spoke.

"He's in immense pain. He was possessing Nagini. He must have been using her to spy again … I don't know where … but something went wrong; he was ... I don't know, shocked, I guess. That's what pulled me into the vision, I think. There was this giant dragon towering over us, er, Nagini, and it struck us. I mean her. It had her tail pressed to the ground with one of its claws, and it attacked. Must have been a Horntail, because it had spikes on its tail, and it got her with those three or four times, once near the head. She was trying to bite it, and I think she finally succeeded in getting it on its under belly, because it screeched in pain and let up. That's when the vision ended. But I was able to feel what he felt. He was pissed that the plan failed, but he was worried, too. He's afraid she might not survive. He's really worried, Sir."

**** end chapter ****

**Notes:** Why tiara and not diadem? I just don't like that word.

A nauga – according to Luna Lovegood a magical animal often mistaken for an ordinary elephant. The name is from an animal I heard about as a child, the nauga, from which naugahyde is made.


	29. Learning and playing

Legal stuff: this is where I tell you that I don't own Harry Potter; and you all go, 'really? what a surprise, we thought for sure you did'; and I go 'your sarcasm is unbecoming an audience of your intellect'; and then you tell me to stop channeling Snape, and I'm tempted to point out it's Spock, not Snape; but I wisely keep my mouth shut.

.

.

**29. Learning and playing**

Harry was sitting on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, casually leaning against the wall with one leg bent at the knee and the other stretched out on the floor, twirling his wand in his hands. That's where he was physically, but mentally he was back in the Room of Requirement, replaying the conversation he and his guardian had shared last night after his graphic vision of Nagini's attack:

Albus sat across from Harry, watching his color return to normal after his vision. As Harry started to say 'thank you Sir', Albus cut him off. "Harry, I like to think that our relationship has reached a certain point of familiarity. For you to call me by such a formal title after vomiting on my robes seems a bit inappropriate."

Through his embarrassment Harry voiced his agreement. "I've been thinking about that too; well, not the vomiting part, but … I don't know what else to call you. Skipper is alright when talking about my guardian to others, but 'the Skipper' seems to have taken on a life of its own, almost like he's a separate person. It doesn't really suit you anyways, it doesn't seem respectful enough."

Albus was relieved to hear that; he hadn't relished the idea of being 'Skipper' for the rest of his life. With a grin he asked, "Would you be surprised to learn that I have given this an enormous amount of thought? In fact, I dare say this seemingly simple topic has proven a greater challenge than getting Hagrid to understand that his students should not have been required to help birth the thestral foal, which you can imagine was no easy feat."

Harry cringed, "Believe me, I understand". He remembered all too well his last visit with Hagrid, and Hagrid's gruesomely detailed story of not only the foal's birth, but also of how the afterbirth had been nearly stepped in by several students that, having not seen death, couldn't see the mess. Shaking his head as if to clear away the image he continued, "Uncle is alright for Abe, but not you. I'm sure you understand why. But I also can't see myself just calling you Albus. I mean, Ron doesn't call his Dad Arthur. But at the same time, I don't feel right calling you Dad, even though you've become like a father to me."

Albus beamed, pleased with Harry's admission. "I thank you, Harry, for your sentiment. However, I do not believe that you can compare our situation to that of the Weasley family. Your friend Ronald has been raised by his father since birth, and so it is natural that they have a traditional father-son relationship, customary titles included. We, however, are joining rather late in the game, and so our relationship will not fit into the typical model. I would be perfectly comfortable with you calling me Albus, but I will certainly not push you for something you are not ready to do."

He watched Harry closely as he continued, "And too, we unfortunately have to consider that others might hear you speaking with me, and the use of certain titles or our given names would be telling. With this in mind, I do have a suggestion." He paused to see that he had Harry's attention. "The ancient Egyptians used the word sbA, or seba, as it is popularly pronounced, to mean 'teacher'. And really, that is what a parent or guardian is, is it not? A teacher, guiding their child in their journey to become a moral adult?"

Harry blinked, having been caught off guard by the question. "Yeah, I guess it is. So you want me to call you Seba?"

Albus bowed his head slightly. "Unless you are more comfortable with something else, I would be honored. Of course, our friend William Weasley may take exception to this, as we are not using the proper, ancient pronunciation, but I for one can live with his disappointment."

Harry laughed, something he found he was doing often this evening, considering the serious nature of the task they had just completed. He added, "Me too, Sir. I think I can call you Seba for now. Maybe we can work on Albus later, but not yet. You know, this is all so different from last year, sometimes it still doesn't feel real."

"Quite," Albus agreed. "Lucky for us, we shall have a good many years to adjust."

.

Harry was brought back to the present by a weak groan. Glancing over, he realized that Kingsley Shacklebolt was coming around. He really hoped he wasn't in too much trouble. He honestly hadn't meant to knock out his teacher, but after nearly three hours of reviewing what Kingsley had called 'standard Death Eater spells', the Auror had wanted to switch to offensive spells. He had started by insisting that Harry 'take his best shot', which is exactly what Harry had done. But apparently, his best shot must have been better than Kingsley expected, for it had zipped right through his casually-spelled 'Protego', and thrown the tall man into the wall. Not that Kingsley noticed that last part; having been rendered unconscious as soon as the spell had hit him.

Sitting up now, his hand rubbing the spot on his shoulder where the curse had hit, Kingsley looked around and spotting Harry he asked, "How long was I out?"

Surprised that that was the man's first question, Harry squatted next to him in case he needed a hand. "About 30 minutes. Ennervate didn't work. I was going to go for help, but didn't think you should be left alone, plus the book said you would wake on your own, so I've just been watching you and reading."

With Harry's help, Kingsley moved so he was sitting on the nearby couch, sighing as his still-swimming head rested against the soft material. "I barely remember what we were doing. Was it really you that got me?" At Harry's nod, he continued. "Right. Seems I must have underestimated you. So, what's this book you're talking about?"

Harry retrieved the well-worn manual and held it out for Kingsley, who instead of taking the book merely gazed at the cover. Harry explained, "It's a training guide that Tonks gave me. She told me to pick out a spell or two to learn for this week, something that sounded fun."

Kingsley rather indignantly said, "Knocking me out for 30 minutes seemed fun, did it?"

Harry shrugged as he replied, "No, not really," then he smiled as he added, "but knocking Tonks out for 30 minutes sure did."

"Right," the Auror replied, smiling as if in agreement. "And you learned this spell on your own just from reading about it? Seems Tonks has been holding out on me if she has a spell like that at her disposal. So what spell was that? Not one I've ever used or seen, I don't think."

Harry had perked up, proud that he had impressed the experienced Auror by picking up the advanced spell on his own. "It's the Tyson Obdomio spell. Aside from knocking you out, it's also supposed to leave you confused for several hours." Harry gave Kingsley the once-over. "So are you confused?"

Kingsley grinned in reply. "To tell the truth, I'm not sure. Was there by chance a quacking duck in the room a moment ago?"

"Er, no. Just us," Harry answered.

Kingsley said, "Oh, then apparently I am confused. Maybe we best call it a day. Do you know how I can get home?" In the end, Harry had snuck Kingsley into the castle using the secret passageways, and left him in the tender care of Madam Pomfrey. Looking at his watch (and glad he wasn't the one being fussed over), he saw that he had ample time to grab a picnic basket from the kitchen to surprise Ginny with a romantic lunch.

Later that week, as Harry and his friends met in the common room to work on homework together, he noticed Hermione thumbing through Tonk's book. Noticing that she was taking notes, he teasingly asked, "change your mind about being an Auror?" Rather than laugh at his joke as he had expected, she, Ginny, and Neville shared a guilty look. Looking back at Harry, she cautiously explained, "Well, Harry, we know how you feel about restarting the DA, but the rest of us could really use the extra training."

"Too right," Neville cut in. "We'd be the dunderhead's Snape always calls us if we thought we wouldn't have to fight again. And I, for one, am going to be ready this time!"

Harry knew exactly how he felt; that was one of the reasons why he had asked for extra training. He regretted that his friends couldn't join in the lessons, but understood how one became two, which became four, which became ten, and so on. That was why he kept 'accidentally' leaving his training notebook out where the girls could find it. Back in the summer he had promised Albus that he wouldn't restart the DA this year – Albus had correctly felt that Harry had too many other things going on this year – but that didn't mean he couldn't help his friends somehow.

Hermione continued, "Exactly, Neville. We plan on being ready for the next fight, so the DA is back in action." She looked around, then pulled her wand and cast Muffliato, one of the spells Harry had taught her, so they could talk freely. Now that they couldn't be overheard, she and Ginny explained how they had already contacted last year's members, and had found a new place to meet. Without Umbridge and her Ministry Decrees it wouldn't be illegal anymore, but they weren't going to openly announce it either. After all, no one saw any point in letting Malfoy, and therefore Voldemort, know what they were doing. They had found an out-of-the-way room that the Professors and especially Filch were unlikely to check on, and their first meeting had actually been this past Sunday, conveniently coinciding with Harry's own training session. People had been disappointed that Harry was not involved, but had been convinced that Harry hadn't been given a choice. Apparently Ginny had insinuated that Harry could be expelled if he was caught teaching again.

Listening to their plans for the club, Harry allowed his friends to 'convince' him to give them pointers, unofficially of course, and even told them they could borrow the defense books in his trunk whenever they wanted. He was pleased to learn that most of last years members had returned, with a few notable exceptions, Cho Chang and Michael Corner among them; but their loss was balanced by a few new faces. Ron and Lavender were even there, which according to Hermione was actually a bit awkward. Ron had loudly insisted in front of the whole group that Harry of all people should be involved, which lead to a spectacular row with Hermione. She had tried to remind Ron that Harry had been prohibited by his guardian from restarting the DA, but Ron couldn't understand why Harry wouldn't do it anyway when he had gone against the Ministry for Magic itself to teach the DA last year.

Harry was surprised by Ron's attitude, seeing how _that _had directly lead to Dumbledore being forced from the school and Umbridge making herself Headmistress. He cracked a smile as he imagined Hermione's response to Ron's ill-conceived argument. Neville, not wanting Hermione to get herself worked up again re-living the fight, took up the narrative by describing some of what they wanted to accomplish this year. When Harry was satisfied he knew the whole story, they ended the privacy spell and got back to their work. Harry leaned over and thanked Hermione for standing up for him to their other friend, he just wished it hadn't been necessary.

After that, the weeks started to fly by, and Harry felt overwhelmed by everything going on around him. His abridged Arithmancy class was rapidly advancing, as they were cramming 1 ½ years worth of lessons into one year. He and Hannah usually ended up working together one night a week on their various projects and essays. Hermione helped when she could, but as her own schedule was rather full, it wasn't often. His other classes weren't much better. As Harry had given himself a new standard for his schoolwork this year, he put much more effort, and therefore much more time, into his homework. As a result, he felt he spent more time in the library than in his dorm room, though on the plus side he now knew the library so well he no longer needed the harsh librarian's assistance in finding the correct book.

Ron's seventeenth birthday had come and gone with hardly any notice. Harry knew that Ron had received a gold watch from his family, but not much else about the day. Lavender had made it clear that girlfriends ranked higher than regular friends, and she had claimed all of Ron's free time for the day. Like Hermione, Harry had admitted defeat and had left his gift to Ron on the other boy's bed.

At least he wasn't taking apparition lessons, like most of his friends. Harry didn't need them, but he couldn't admit as much to his friends. Instead, he had told them that his guardian wanted him to wait until summer, when he would get private lessons. While Ron commented on Harry's rotten luck, Hermione looked suspicious. When she had cornered him later and accused him of already knowing how to Apparate, he had just smiled, glad she wasn't a Legilimens. The down-side was that, while he didn't have those extra lessons, most of his fellow Sixth Years did, so it cut into what little free time he normally had with them. But then again, Ginny wasn't taking the lessons either.

Thursday nights were usually reserved for Quidditch practice. Gryffindor was ahead for the cup, and had won both of their matches to date, and they were determined to win that last match and ultimately the cup this year. He may not have started the season as Captain, but when Katie had returned to school she hadn't wanted the job back, having too much school work to catch up, so he had continued. Thus, he was busy reviewing the other teams (thanks to a sneaky Creevey and a pair of omnioculars) and revising plays long after the rest of the team was done for the night.

And of course, there were his continuing sessions with Dr. Tony, but Harry was actually grateful for those. While he felt he didn't need actual therapy so much any more (an opinion not shared by either Albus or the doctor), he found he quite liked having an unbiased ear to unload to. There were still so many things he either couldn't or wouldn't talk about with his friends, both about his personal life and about the war, but which he could talk about with his therapist without fear of the information leaking. In fact, it was Dr. Tony who first heard that Harry had mastered silent Apparition.

At least every other Saturday, Harry was trying to meet with Albus – or Seba as he was starting to call him in private; sometimes to talk Voldemort, but mostly just to visit. He knew he could be using that time to keep up with his never-ending homework, but he liked having a family, and so he often found himself letting the homework wait while he had breakfast with the old man. Besides, he rationalized, sometimes Professor McGonagall joined them, and he could pick her brain about transfiguration theory and even advanced charms. The woman was really quite brilliant. And if she knew what he was doing, she didn't seem to mind. In fact she seemed to enjoy their impromptu lessons, as students didn't normally ask such in-depth questions.

In his spare time, of which he had very little, he was still working on his Order assignments to find a way to save Snape from his vow and to figure out Malfoy's plot. He wasn't getting very far on either task, and in truth the lack of progress was quite frustrating. On top of all of that, he was still practicing Battleball most Saturdays and going to the tournaments every Wednesday, still meeting with an Order member every Sunday for training (even practicing with his second wand – the one he had 'won' from Rodolphus Lestrange), still trying to spend 'quality time' with Ginny, and oh yeah, eating and sleeping had to fit in there somewhere. More simply put, by the end of March, Harry was ready to kick back and have some fun.

Unfortunately, he got Potions instead. This particular class started as usual with everyone handing in their homework assignments. Since Snape preferred to act as if Harry wasn't there, and therefore wouldn't stop at his table to collect the work, Hermione as usual handed his in with hers. The assignment had been on Everlasting Elixirs, one of which they were going to brew today. Since Harry didn't get actual grades on his work (being a Head's Candidate as opposed to a regular student), Snape could only make corrections to his work. And to that, Harry had found that he took great pleasure in having no mistakes on his work, and therefore nothing for Snape to correct. Two papers ago, the man had been reduced to correcting his grammar – most notably that he'd ended a sentence with a preposition – when he could find no fault in the subject matter.

For today, Harry had read ahead in his text book, taking the time to decipher the strange notes in the margins, and had looked up the potion in the library. He'd even re-written his 'revised' instructions to make following them easier. As did the rest of the class, he got to work as soon as Snape had barked "Begin!" In no time at all, he was at what he thought of as the mindless portion of the work, namely stirring slowly for exactly 14 ½ minutes. Harry had been listening to Snape make his comments as he made his rounds, and wondered yet again if the man was really worth saving. Honestly, he had just told Hermione it was a shame her parents weren't optometrists because clearly she couldn't read if she was going to add 'fish eyes' instead of 'fish eggs'. Harry found that particularly harsh, considering their text actually said to use eyes, it was only the book in the library (and his mysterious note writer) that said to use eggs.

A few minutes later, the quiet of the room was disrupted by Snape's yell, "You call that good enough, Mister Malfoy? The book says yellow, and your potion is clearly orange. Did you even bother to prepare your ingredients, or did you just use them straight from the bottle? You arrogant fool, do you not realize that the smallest detail can cause the whole thing to explode in your face? Clean this mess and get out. You will report to me this evening for detention."

Harry looked up to see a fuming Malfoy clearing his things, Snape having already vanished his potion. As Malfoy stormed past, Harry heard him muttering about 'interfering, overgrown bat-brains'. Turning, he shared a significant look with Hermione. Clearly, he wasn't the only one that thought Snape's last comment hadn't been about potions. Unfortunately, by the time his mind had returned to his own potion, it was too late. For the first time this year his potion was completely ruined, but he took heart in knowing his wasn't the only one. Seeing the other vials being turned in, Harry figured that no one had been able to concentrate after Snape's little snit with Malfoy. It was understandable – Snape throwing a Slytherin out of his classroom was such an unprecedented feat it would likely make the next edition of Hogwarts: A History.

On their way to Defense class, Hermione filled Ron in on what had transpired – after pulling him away from Lavender, that is. They settled into their usual seats and Hermione pulled out a piece of parchment full of notes. Upon entering the classroom, Professor Fortescue noticed the parchment, and with a sigh asked, "Miss Granger, what interesting spell have you found for us today?"

Hermione jumped right in, "Well, I was reading a book the other night, and I came across the Tyson Obdomio spell. It sounded rather useful, and I was wondering if you could tell us about it."

The Professor gave her a penetrating look. "Tell me again, in what book have you been finding these fascinating spells?"

Hermione never missed a beat as she replied, "It was a study guide, actually, that belongs to someone I know who used to teach defense. I didn't think he would mind if I got some ideas from it. Professor Lupin says hello to everyone, by the way."

What Harry liked the most about Hermione's little speech was the fact that it was completely true and totally false all at the same time. She _had_ gotten the spell from a study guide, the Auror's guide Tonks had given him. He _had_ taught defense last year, just not as a Professor. He _didn't_ mind that she looked at it, just as long as she didn't ask him to explain anything since he had promised not to share his lessons with anyone else. And best of all, Remus had in fact asked her to pass his regards on to her classmates. Was it Hermione's fault if their Professor put the facts together and came to the wrong conclusion? Harry knew that Ginny used similar tactics to ask about advanced spells in her own DADA class.

He refocused on his Professor as the man started to explain. "Very well, Miss Granger. I suppose I can spare a few minutes. The Tyson Obdomio spell, Obdomio being Latin for 'to fall asleep' …." Harry's mind drifted as he remembered knocking out a fully-trained, battle hardened Auror with this very spell. A smile crept onto his face as he recalled that same Auror complementing his skills just this past Sunday. He tuned back in as the Professor continued, "The incantation is 'Tysonius', and is accompanied by pulling your wand back, and than quickly jabbing it toward the victim. It's one draw back is that if you do not put enough power in your punch, it won't knock your target out." He paused for a moment, as several students were writing this down. "Now, may I begin class, Miss Granger?" The rest of the class was rather boring, by comparison.

Later that night, after putting the finishing touches on his Charms essay, Harry looked across the room to the couch where Ron and Lavender were sitting. Not for the first time he wondered if he could have done something different, so he and Ron could still be best friends. _'Yeah, not date Ginny'_. Oh sure, they were still friends, but it wasn't like it used to be. Since he hadn't had any friends before Hogwarts, he had never experienced the way friends sometimes grow apart before. It was strange to only be casual friends with Ron, but he supposed that maybe this was how friendships worked. Hadn't Dudley mentioned that he'd stopped running around with Malcolm? Except, weren't he and Piers still best friends? And he and Hermione certainly had no problems.

Putting his melancholy thoughts to the side, Harry looked around his friends and asked, "Who's up for some fun?" It only took a bit of convincing, as the stress seemed to be getting to everyone, before his friends acquiesced. Harry had even invited RonandLavender (pronounced that way, as they seemed to always be connected _somehow_), and was shocked when Lavender said she had to finish some homework, but Ron should go without her. After checking his map to make certain Malfoy was occupied elsewhere, he led the group to the Room of Requirement.

Ron smiled as they neared the entryway. "What are we doing here, mate? I thought you weren't doing the DA this year."

Harry shook his head in reply as he started to pace. "This is more than just a practice room, Ron. It's the room of _requirement_. Remember, when Fred and George needed to hide from Filch, it was a broom cupboard. When Dumbledore needed to piss (_"gross, Harry"_) it was a fancy restroom. And when troublemakers need somewhere to hide their contraband," Harry stopped as the door appeared, and threw it open theatrically, "they get this. Welcome to the Land of the Lost."

The teens crowded into the room, in awe of the piles towering throughout the room before them, and Harry pulled the door closed. As his friends looked over the things nearest them, Harry explained that the room was full of lost and hidden objects. Ginny walked toward a broken cabinet. "I recognize this. The twins stuffed that stupid Slytherin in it last year. Wonder what it's doing in here."

Neville came over to inspect it. "Looks broke. This must be where Filch dumps things he can't fix. See that suit of armor over there missing an arm and head?"

The group started to spread out, Ron jogged down one of the far aisles while the others all separated to see what treasures they could find. Occasionally, one would yell to the others to come see their discovery. Neville was most interested in a small skeleton he found inside an old bird cage. Hermione was fascinated by a tapestry she had found rolled up that appeared to show Azkaban before the fortress had become a prison. Harry and Ginny strolled through the room laughing as they picked out various objects. At one point, Harry had taken the lid off an old cauldron and a bludger had shot out, circling the room before it started diving for the people. The friends joined into a lively game of 'keep away' before Ron finally snagged it and put it back into the cauldron.

Needing a rest after their game, they decided to pull together some chairs and trunks to have a sit-down. Ron had carried over the Cosmic Shooter Harry had spotted on his trip with Albus, and he was checking it over for damage. He finally looked over to Harry. "There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with this besides the broken tail piece. Shame it'll never fly again, I've heard they were the best of their time"

"I know what you mean," said Harry. "Some of the things in here are probably worth quite a bit, though I suspect an equal number are probably illegal."

Ron nodded his agreement, fingering the broom as he replied, "It's like the treasure hunts Bill used to go on for Gringotts. Sometimes they would find a treasure, sometimes they would find junk, but he always said it was the thrill of the hunt that mattered. Course it was easy for him to say, he was only brought in after the boring part was done so he could break the curses." For a moment, Harry thought Hermione was going to say something, but then he noticed she was cradling an old book – _'probably some lost manuscript.' _– that explained her smile.

He said to her, "I'm sure it would be alright if you borrowed that book. Just take good care of it, and return it when you are done. Better yet, take it to Madame Pince when you're done." Hermione nodded her agreement, and carefully placed the book on her lap, where she continued to occasionally stroke the cover.

They sat joking about how some of the things had ended up here – someone had wondered if Snape was 'the closet lush hiding the booze bottles' – or why some of the things had been hidden. The tolling of a nearby clock caught everyone's attention. Looking at his watch, Harry saw that curfew had already come and gone, but thanks to the Marauders, they were able to get back to the tower without fear of being caught. Approaching the portrait of the fat lady, Harry sighed as he tucked the map away in his bookbag. He had wanted to update it this year with all the new rooms and passageways he knew of, but time and schoolwork had conspired against him. At least he and his friends had gotten one evening to relax. Tomorrow he would go back to reality; back to finding Horcruxes and thwarting murder plots. Climbing through the opening, he couldn't help but feel that a storm was building, and he was about to get caught in it.

**** end chapter ****

**Note:** The Tyson Obdomio spell. The incantation is 'tysonius'. Obdomio being Latin for 'to fall asleep'. Knocks opponents out for 30 minutes, then leaves them confused for several hours. Named for boxer Mike Tyson, who was known for packing quite a punch in his prime.

Before anyone can complain, Neville is wrong about Filch using the Room of Requirement. He's a squib, so he can't access the room. It's the house elves that are putting the damaged/broken things in the room.

As best as I can tell, as ancient Egyptian wasn't actually exactly written in English, the actual hieroglyphic is translated into 'sbA', but it is phonetically spelled 'seba'. Confused? Me too. I tried my best, but ultimately decided that, as I do not hold a related degree, and I'm not Daniel Jackson, I would just have to wing it, and hope that no one would notice any mistakes or take offense.


	30. The Forthright Filius Flitwick

Legal: I thought instead of telling you what I don't own, I'd tell you what I do own. I own a cute dog (that's her driving my van on my profile page). Her name is Misty Moonlit Night, aka Misty the Moondog. We have another dog and three cats in the house, but I don't own those. Dang, I ended up telling you what I don't own after all.

NOTE: dash zero dash (-0-) separates events happening simultaneously.

.

.

**30. The Forthright Filius Flitwick**

Once they made it back into the common room, Neville thanked Hermione for inviting him along instead of putting him the Full Body Bind this time before excusing himself to his dorm room. A pink-faced Hermione waved him off and joined her laughing friends at some seats in the corner. With Lavender nowhere in sight, Ron stuck around as well.

They spent a few minutes reliving the hunt and discussing the hidden treasures, before the topic strayed to the room itself. At that point, Hermione set her coveted book aside and spoke up. "Actually, I've been thinking about that. What if Malfoy isn't using the room for his planning, what if the room is the plan?"

Ginny and Ron looked at each other in confusion, but Harry saw where she was going and began to nod in agreement. "You know, you might be on to something. I mean, we call it the Room of Requirement, but Dobby told me that the elves have another name for it, the Come and Go Room. What if the room lets you do just that – come and go from the castle?"

"That makes sense," Hermione agreed. "Malfoy could be going other places, maybe gathering weapons or practicing curses. He might even be planning to bring something into the castle, though I can't think of what off the top of my head."

Ron and Ginny added their ideas, and the more they discussed the possibility, the more they felt they might be onto something. Perhaps Malfoy had befriended a house-elf that, like Dobby, had shared the room's secrets. The only hitch in this scenario was the concept of Malfoy actually befriending a servant, which none of them could see happening. Still, the theory had merit, so Harry decided to share it with the Headmaster the next time they spoke.

Settling further into the couch, Harry and Ginny tuned out the rest of the conversation as they made themselves comfortable, but they were interrupted when Dean and Seamus came running down the stairs. "Harry, you've got to come up to our room. There's something you need to see. Ron or Hermione, you better go get McGonagall." Harry jumped up and followed them to his dorm, Ron and Ginny close behind. The sight that met him as he entered the room caused him to stop in his tracks.

Neville was kneeling on Harry's bed, one hand tightly holding the forearm of a fat, hairy house-elf, his other arm wrapped around one of the bed posts. The elf was tugging with all of its might, clearly trying to pull away, but Neville was having none of it. "Help me hold him!" he cried, "He can't leave as long as I'm holding onto him." Jumping quickly, Harry and Dean moved in, each holding onto one of its arms.

"Got him, Neville," Harry said. "Now, can you tell me why we're holding a house-elf prisoner? You know Hermione will want to kill us when she finds out, right?"

At that, all the boys took a quick look at the door, as if expecting Hermione to come charging in at any moment. Ginny laughed as Ron and Seamus stood to the side, trying to look like they weren't involved in any house-elf torture. "Relax guys, she went to get the Professor." While they were waiting, Harry took stock of the elf and noticed something odd. This elf was not wearing the standard Hogwarts 'uniform', she (Harry assumed it was a she) was wearing a horrid pink and yellow floral print pillowcase toga-style, held together over one shoulder with an old brooch that was missing several stones.

It didn't take long for Professor McGonagall to arrive, and she quickly confirmed what Harry suspected; this was no Hogwarts house-elf. With a flick of her wand she had the rogue elf bound, and the boys were able to let go of its arms. Dismissing the others ('really now, this isn't a spectator sport, Mister Finnegan'), the Professor lead Harry and Neville up to the Headmaster's office, pushing the now-bound house-elf in front of her the whole way.

Albus was seated at his desk writing when the group tromped in, and he looked up and took in the strange sight before turning to Minerva questioningly. His face showed his concern as she relayed what little she knew. Albus carefully moved the elf to a spot on the floor and invited the boys to sit – offering them tea to make them (Neville, really) comfortable. Once everyone was seated, he kindly asked Harry to explain the situation, but he could only recount what happened after he had been called for help. He apologized for not being of more help, before suggesting that Neville finish, as it was really his tale to begin with. Unfortunately, Neville was clearly out of his element sitting with his Headmaster and telling stories over tea, so it took a bit of prompting on Albus' part to get the whole story.

Neville had been returning from the lavatory (he turned red at this admission) when he heard something next to Harry's bed. Moving quietly, he spotted the house-elf ('one look and I knew that was no Hogwarts' elf') sitting on the floor, shifting through the contents of Harry's book bag, which it had dumped on the floor. He had snuck up on the elf, grabbing it from behind so it couldn't escape, and sent the others for help. After awarding Neville twenty points for his 'fast thinking and decisive action' in capturing the renegade elf, Albus dismissed him with a smile and a lemon drop ('save it for tomorrow, my boy').

Once the three were alone, Albus got down to business. Harry was never sure what spell or spells Albus used on the elf, but he knew the results. In just minutes the house-elf, who called himself Bert, was alternating between spilling his guts, thankfully not literally, and bashing his head against any furniture in reach, or even the floor.

It took some effort to follow the story, but Harry was able to put together that the elf's owner had sent him to Hogwarts several times this year. "First Bert was being told to curse Harry Potter using Mistresses spare wand, even though Bert is not supposed to use a wizard's wand. Bert did not know what the spelling was, only that it would harm Harry Potter. Mistress was so happy when Harry Potter was hurt that day on the train, but when he got better, Mistress had to punish Bert by making Bert break his toes." Harry cringed, remembering how the then-enslaved Dobby used to punish himself, even if his Master didn't know of his infractions.

Bert continued his story, "Then Mistress decided she needed to find Harry Potter's weakness, and Mistress finally let Bert prove himself by sending Bert to steal from the Muggle school, and Bert did good at that and did not need punished. But then Mistress sent Bert to Hogwarts to steal files from the hospital, and Bert was almost caught, but he got lucky and got away, and took the file back to Mistress. But Mistress didn't find what she needed in them, so she is giving them away. But that was before Mistress had to leave, and Bert had to stay in our new house by himself. But finally, Mistress needed Bert again. Mistress said that she found a new way to hurt Harry Potter." The elf had become still as he was forced to finish his tale.

"She ordered Bert to find the name of Harry Potter's new guardian, and send it to Mistress so she can steal Harry Potter this summer. If Bert fails at his new task, he must return to the empty house and stay there forever without his Mistress. Without doing any cleaning!"

By this point the elf was crying. "Mistress insists that Harry Potter needs to be punished, because it is his fault she got in trouble. But Bert does not want to destroy Harry Potter. Bert has heard other house-elves saying that Harry Potter is nice to all house-elves, and even his own house-elf says he is a good Master. But Bert is not having a choice." The elf awkwardly flung himself at Harry, crying on his feet. "Bert is sorry Harry Potter," he wailed again and again, before Minerva had heard enough and cast a sleeping charm on him.

Harry was looking at the house-elf, not sure how to feel, other than wondering why all the weird house elves seemed to be attracted to him. He couldn't make out what Albus and Minerva were quietly discussing, but he could tell by the look on their faces that they weren't happy. Harry didn't think he needed to hear anyway, he knew they had to be discussing the house-elf's confession. The fact that Bert had been moving in and out of Hogwarts freely – he did claim to have spent several weeks in the kitchens – stood out in his mind. "Sir, how was Lestrange able to get her house-elf into Hogwarts?"

Albus and Minerva both turned to him, and Minerva questioned, "Lestrange, Harry?"

"Bellatrix Lestrange. It's her house-elf, isn't it?"

Instead of answering, Minerva turned to Albus, and he got the hint and replied, "No Harry, I do not believe that Bert belongs to Missus Lestrange. But to answer your first question, the elf was able to roam Hogwarts freely because he was recognized. I believe he was here most, if not all, of last year, and so none would have thought to question his appearance this year. Unless I have missed the mark, this house-elf belongs to Dolores Umbridge."

Before Harry could respond, Minerva had risen from her seat. "No more questions tonight, Harry. You need to get to sleep, as I believe you have classes in the morning." When it looked like he would argue, she added, "Albus will make sure the elf is taken care of, so you may rest easy, knowing the troublemaker has been caught."

Harry had let himself be guided out of his chair and toward the door as she had spoken, but when she said this last bit he stopped to face the two again before stepping out. "Not really. We just caught the house-elf, Umbridge is still out there."

"Unfortunately, you are correct. But we can take heart in knowing that she is now denied her secret weapon," Albus replied. He came over to give Harry's shoulder a squeeze. "But Minerva is correct, Harry. You need to get back to your dorm room so you may pick up the tale for your friends where Mister Longbottom has no doubt left off. Good night, Harry." And with those parting words, Harry found himself outside the Headmaster's office, rehearsing what he would tell his classmates upon his return to the tower.

In the following weeks, Harry's mind would often drift to the wayward house-elf. Over the years, he had seen house-elves do strange things: Dobby had defied his hated Master and then reveled in his freedom. Winky had taken the blame, and its accompanied freedom sentence, to protect her beloved Master. And Kreacher, well he had gone from openly hating Harry to borderline adoration, all because he'd learned Harry could speak the noble language of the serpent. And now Bert, who openly admitted he didn't want to return to his Mistress, and who had made no attempt to leave his castle prison, which was really just the castle's laundry.

Albus had only told the elf he couldn't leave, and Bert had taken the words as truth and hadn't even tried. Minerva had privately shared her theory that Bert had chosen to believe the lie without question so he could stay without having to punish himself for disobeying his Mistress. That made sense, in twisted house-elf logic. Harry was beginning to think he would never understand the bizarre breed.

Harry did figure out one thing; his guardian was definitely over-protective. Not that he hadn't already known that, but it was reaching new heights. Apparently, Albus had wanted to punish Bert by making him help Hagrid with feeding and cleaning up after the castle's many magical creatures, but Minerva's level head had won. As amusing as Harry found the image of the elf trying to show respect to a hippogriff, he was glad she had interceded.

Another area where Albus took his job seriously was overseeing Harry's school work. Shortly after the capture of the house-elf Bert, Albus had voiced his concerns that Harry's many 'extra' activities might be affecting his lessons, but Harry had assured him this was not the case. With Harry's permission, Albus had brought up the boy's classroom performance at one of the staff meetings. To his great pleasure, Albus had learned that Harry was carrying a strong Outstanding in both Defense and Charms, a high Exceeds Expectations in Transfiguration, and a solid Exceeds Expectations in Arithmancy.

Of course, there was no grade for Potions, but that hadn't stopped Snape from voicing a negative opinion of Harry and his work. In fact, Snape had vehemently argued that Harry's near-perfect work had to be the result of cheating, as his previous five years' worth of work had been abysmal, bordering on criminal. Harry had been defended by his other teachers, who all agreed that his work had noticeably improved this year because of a newly-found work ethic, not academic fraud. Even Trelawney had defended the boy, and he wasn't even in her class anymore. She had watched him poring over his homework many nights, in her crystal ball that is, and for once Minerva had applauded her abilities. Madam Pince, who as the librarian normally had very little to add at staff meetings, had the final say when she confirmed the many hours he spent in her domain every week. According to Albus, Snape had visibly sulked for the rest of the evening.

Not as amusing during this same time was the news that several of the Death Eaters that had been captured at the ministry last June were 'missing'. Not officially, of course; but Shacklebolt had let Albus know that several cells which were listed as occupied on the prisoner roster were empty to the naked eye. Harry had been disheartened to learn that with only a month until Malfoy sprung his still-undiscovered plan, the Death Eater ranks were practically back to full strength.

Another thought that often occupied his mind was the vision of Nagini. Aside from wondering about the fate of the snake (or more accurately, the fate of the Horcrux), he was troubled by the vision itself. He couldn't remember ever having such a vivid visualization before when he was one hundred percent awake. It had worried him, until Albus pointed out the unusual, and not likely to be repeated circumstances. Harry had purposely tried to open his mind to Voldemort, and while it hadn't seemed to work at the time, perhaps the equation of his willingness to reach out to Voldemort's magic, added to his opening himself to an another external magical (in the form of the castle) source, multiplied by the close proximity to the tiara Horcrux had equaled the connection. Albus felt it was unlikely that Voldemort knew of Harry's intrusion given the monster's emotional upheaval of the moment. Harry tried to comfort himself in that fact every time he relived Voldemort's horror in the attack.

At last Gryffindor's final Quidditch match arrived, and not a moment too soon, as Harry was sorely in need of a distraction. There had been no new information on either the Umbridge or Malfoy situations (Harry was seriously considering shoving Veritaserum down the boy's throat), and no official report on the prisoner breakout. He also felt he had hit a mental barrier of some sort that was preventing him from finding the right solution to Snape's quandary. Harry desperately wanted to win the match today, not just to increase their chances of winning the cup, but for the ego boost it would give him, not that he would admit that to anyone. Besides, the after party was always a good time.

An hour into the game found Harry casually circling the pitch as he scanned the playing field for the snitch. Gryffindor held a healthy lead, 90 – 30; not enough to insure victory, but enough to give his fellow teammates a confidence boost. Harry came to a stop as he took a deep breath of the clean mountain air, slowly letting it out as he surveyed the playing field. Below and to the right was Ginny, playing Chaser as she was born to do, preparing to make a run at an opposing goal. Off by himself just now, Ron was sitting right below the left hoop, ready for the action to return to his domain. Looking beyond the pitch, he could see the path that would take him to the abandoned Chapel, and from there, home. And of course, right in front of him stood Hogwarts castle. Funny how he used to think of this place as home. It made him wonder where home would be five years from … _'hold on, there's the snitch!'_ … almost directly below him; and from the look of things, the opposing seeker had spotted it, too.

Harry went from still to moving so fast that to many of the spectators it looked like he had tipped the broom too far forward and was falling, except his body never came off the broom. Harry was in actuality pulling off a textbook-perfect vertical dive. The fans held their collective breath, and a shocked Ginny dropped the Quaffle, so sure were they all that Harry was about to slam face-first into the ground. But they didn't know that Harry had practiced dives during his summer at Sarag's Glen, perfecting his technique for, apparently, just this moment. Right near the end of his dive, about 8 feet from the ground, he smoothly adjusted his course slightly to the left to catch the fleeing snitch, finally pulling parallel to the ground with only two feet to spare and the snitch clasped tightly in his hand.

Hopping off his broom, he heard an unfamiliar voice announce the score, 240 to 30, and let out a joyful whoop. Most of Gryffindor made their way to the pitch to congratulate the team on the thrilling victory, all voicing their belief that the Cup would be theirs again this year. Harry too believed that the cup would be theirs, but even if they lost it, at least it wouldn't go to Slytherin. After missing the first match 'for health reasons', Draco had started skipping practices more often then not. Then he failed to show up for their second game, this time with no excuse at all, and rumor had it Snape had actually thrown him off the team. Whether that was true or not, the fact remained that the Slytherin team was now Malfoy-less, and also winless. Harry's mind was so wrapped up in calculating the odds of winning the Cup that he hardly registered the trip to the locker room.

After getting cleaned up, he and his teammates arrived back in the common room to find the celebration party was already in full swing. Harry had considered going to see his guardian, who had looked like he was ready to jump up and slow his 'fall', a la third year, during his dive. But catching the old man's eye after the game, he saw that he was free to instead celebrate with his friends. Of course, it had helped when his Head of House had discretely commented that it was a good thing Albus' hair had gone white a long time ago, otherwise people would be getting suspicious.

A few hours into the party found Harry and Ginny sitting together on a chair, which is to say Harry was on the chair, and Ginny was on Harry. They normally would not have behaved quite so 'comfortably' in public, but both were feeling a bit free (thanks to that punch Seamus had procured), and their secret tower room was unavailable. Or, more correctly put, it was un-usable, as the formerly empty lounge chair was now occupied by a very prudish looking woman who herself was dressed conservatively, and who tended to cough whenever they came into physical contact of any type. Harry doubted it was a coincidence that she had finally reclaimed her lounge seat only after Harry had confessed his love for Ginny to his guardian.

At some point, Dean either took pity on the couple or tired of watching their display, and told them about an abandoned classroom that he had 'used for girl-boy relationship purposes' in the past. The frisky couple practically dumped their drinks in their rush to leave, barely even saying good-bye to their friends.

They found the classroom easily enough, and settled comfortably on the thick fleece blanket someone – Dean most likely – had left on the floor behind the teacher's desk. Reclining on the cushioned blanket they noticed they were conveniently hidden from the doorway, should anyone happen past and look in. Having been denied such privacy for a while, they were a bit hasty in their rush to get re-acquainted, and before long shoes and robes had been discarded carelessly, and hands had disappeared under the remaining clothes. It was Harry's hand getting 'zapped' that brought them back to themselves.

Harry reluctantly sat up, holding his arm out to help Ginny up as well. They sat next to each other for a moment, quiet in their own thoughts. Finally, Ginny broke the silence by apologizing for the 'zap'.

Harry grinned, chuckling as he replied. "Not your fault, Gin. I just wasn't paying attention to where my hand was going. Besides, I'm the one that cast the charm, so I can't exactly blame you when it does what it's supposed to do." Harry moved so he was sitting next to Ginny, their arms and legs touching, and grasped her nearest hand in his. "So, maybe we can just talk about something for a bit to give us a chance to catch our breath. Let me think a minute … I know, do you think you'll be Quidditch captain in your Seventh Year?"

-0-

Back at the party, as Harry, Ginny, and scores of others were drinking the spiked punch, Ron Weasley had instead nursed a single Butterbeer. His official excuse was that he had Prefect Duty that evening, and so had to keep a clear mind. Unofficially, he was thinking. He saw how Harry and Ginny were carrying on, and was thinking that he had let that whole situation go entirely too far. Even the way they dressed was too much. Both were wearing their school robes in the open, casual style many Muggleborns adopted. Underneath, Ginny was in a pair of jeans that sat a bit too low on her waist, and a tight-fitting T-shirt that clearly showed she had forgotten a layer. Harry was barely better in his clothes. The pants were baggy and the button-up shirt was un-tucked, like he was inviting Ginny to reach under them and explore! Ron had thought that Harry would come to his senses on his own and realize that Ginny was fun, but nothing serious; like he himself felt about Lavender. But apparently he was having too much fun to see the mistake he was making.

Ron had left his seat and made his way around to the two, determined to have a much needed talk with them, when he overheard Dean giving them directions to an unused classroom. Forming a new plan, he quickly went to his dorm to get ready for his rounds. He would be a bit early, but he was certain the Professors wouldn't question the time.

-0-

" …and he all but told me I had to play this year because he thinks I have a chance to play professional, but I just don't know. I mean, it would be great fun, but I'm not sure I want to be in the public eye like that." Harry and Ginny had turned their conversation to Quidditch after Hogwarts, which they both agreed sounded fun in theory. Ginny was now leaning into Harry's side, and he had his arm around her shoulder; his hand playing with her hair.

Ginny smirked, "Getting a bit ahead of yourself, aren't you. Maybe none of the teams would want a skinny, short kid with bad eyes."

"Hey, I'll have you know short and skinny is a perfect seeker's build." Harry pretended to be upset, until Ginny turned her body toward him, then he struck – he tickled right where he knew she was most sensitive, and kept it up until she cried "enough".

As their laughter died down, they fell back into each others arms, settling back onto the blanket. This time, the frantic pace of earlier was forgotten as they gently held each other and kissed. Harry was struggling to keep from getting zapped again by concentrating on Ginny's upper portions. Ginny had no such incentive, and so she slowly became bolder in her exploration as her hands moved beneath his loose-fitting clothes.

-0-

Sitting in his gilded throne, listening to Fenrir Greyback going on about how he needed to be a part of the upcoming invasion, was the Dark Lord himself. Unfortunately for Greyback, his Lord wasn't paying the least bit of attention to him. No, he was trying desperately to find a dignified solution to his growing problem. That Potter brat was a walking hormone, and he was 'broadcasting' again, and Occluding could only do so much at the best of times, and practically nothing when the boy was experiencing such strong emotions.

That boy was going to pay. First, he had to get rid of the werewolf so he could get this problem in hand. And then, he was going to seriously consider having Potter castrated.

-0-

This time when Harry felt the zap, which was much stronger now, he loudly cursed Merlin, the crazy Swedish wizard that created the charm, and Kirk for writing the book he found it in! His cursing had snapped Ginny back to the here-and-now, and she extracted her own hands as she pushed herself into a sitting position and jerked her top down in an attempt to get it back into place. She watched as Harry shook his hand, trying to chase away the stinging in his fingertips. She couldn't help it, she started to laugh; and once he had gotten over the shock, Harry saw the humor in the situation, and joined in.

-0-

Filius Flitwick was a good-natured man. Any of his students would tell you he was fair and balanced in his dealings with his students. But he also had clearly-defined morals that he adhered to, and he expected his students to do the same. So when one of the Prefects told him he had overheard one student tell another about an abandoned classroom that could be used for an illicit rendezvous, he set off immediately to find the culprits.

Finally turning the last corner, he slowed his pace and pulled his wand. He didn't expect to need it, but desperate teenagers sometimes did stupid things. Sneaking up to the door, he heard laughing. Perhaps he had been misinformed? Peeking inside the door, he didn't immediately see anything, but hearing the laughter again he gave the room a closer inspection. That's when he saw it – a shoe! And over there was a student robe, and was that foot? One quick flick of his wand, and the teacher's desk shot across the room, revealing a shocked Ginny Weasley and a guilty-looking Harry Potter. Their appearance spoke volumes. Weasley's shirt did nothing to hid her roused bosom and it had ridden (or been pushed) up to so that it barely covered her stomach. Potter wasn't looking any better; his shirt was un-tucked and partially unbuttoned, revealing pants that were themselves unbuttoned at the top, and that looked too tight in a certain place.

The two students stared at their Professor with growing looks of horror on their faces. This would not end well.

**** end chapter ****

**Notes:** Where to start? Well, the house elf's confession certainly explained a lot, tying up that story arc quite nicely. Or did it?

Quidditch: I hope I did OK this time. I think I've already begged your forgiveness for not being able to describe Quidditch well. I will add that I could never top Jo's portrayal of Luna as commentator, so I decided to not even try. Also, I've obviously made up my own game schedule to fit my plot.

And finally, for that last bit – I hope you were able to follow everything that was happening simultaneously. To refresh your memory on The Chastity Charm: it is applied to a pure witch any time after the onset of puberty. Once applied, any male touching the witch below the so-called panty line receives a mild shock. Subsequent touches within a 5 hour period result in increasingly painful shocks, until the aggressor is finally knocked unconscious.


	31. The ParentTeacher conference

Please note: I don't own the Harry Potter characters. I'm just borrowing them. And not like when you borrow a Kleenex, because really, who actually gives those back when they are done?

.

.

**31. The Parent-Teacher conference**

It was a guilt-ridden Harry Potter that followed his Head of House up to his guardian's office. Flitwick had wasted little time in contacting her after finding the wayward Gryffindors. Luckily the teens had enough sense to straighten their clothes before she arrived, so she only got to hear the description but not actually see the evidence. Following a tag-team lecture on proper behavior and respecting boundaries, a very unhappy McGonagall convinced the little Professor to escort Ginny back to the Gryffindor dorms. As the foursome went their separate ways, she mentioned they would continue the discussion in the morning. Harry tried to apologize to Ginny for getting her in such trouble, but his voice wouldn't cooperate, so he had to hope she could see his regret in his eyes as they left each other.

Once they'd reached the familiar office Harry took his usual seat, not paying attention to the other two in the room (which became three when Flitwick joined them) as his mind invented one wild scenario after another – the Weasley's would tell him he couldn't date Ginny; no, they would tell he him wasn't welcome at the Burrow; no, they would let Ginny's many older brothers deal with the problem. By the time his mind tuned back into the present, the two teachers were leaving the office – both wearing their disappointment openly on their faces – which would leave him alone with his guardian.

Harry kept his head bowed, not wanting to see the same disappointment on the one who's opinion mattered most. The clicking of the shutting door signaled that the two were alone, but neither seemed inclined to break the silence. Eventually Harry found the quiet overbearing, and he lifted his head to look at Albus.

This was what Albus was waiting for, and in a tired voice he said, "I only have one question, Harry, and I trust you will give me a truthful answer."

Harry knew exactly what was coming, could guess almost word for word, but still cringed as he heard the question.

"Have you had sexual relations with Ginevra?"

No matter how red and hot his face he became, he held eye contact as he answered "I haven't, and we don't plan to any time soon … Sir."

"Very well," he responded, "I think that shall be all for this evening. You don't seem to be in the proper frame of mind for a meaningful discussion tonight. Might I suggest you spend the night in our rooms."

Harry wasn't certain if it was a suggestion or a command, but either way he was glad to oblige. He didn't think he could face his friends right now – Hermione in particular was good at sensing his guilt from twenty paces, and she would surely want to know what was wrong. Besides, he was almost afraid to face Ron. What if the red-head had somehow heard about them getting caught? Prefects always heard the gossip first, and Ron was supposed to be doing rounds tonight. _'good thing he didn't find us!'_

As Harry passed Albus to step through the door to their private rooms, the man lightly grabbed him by the shoulder. "I am disappointed by your actions this evening, Harry. You chose poorly. But it does not change anything between us. When we meet with the Weasley's tomorrow I will stand with you." With a quick good night they parted ways, Harry to his bed and Albus back to his office to tidy up for the big conference.

The next morning Harry woke up to the rumbling of thunder, although 'waking' was being generous, seeing as he hadn't really slept during the night. Images of Ginny being transferred to Beauxbatons competed with the reality that his personal life was about to, once again, be spread all over the school. And this time, Ginny's reputation was going to suffer. He would consider himself lucky if she ever spoke to him again. He rolled over, wishing he could hide under his covers until the storm had dissipated.

Based on what he'd managed to comprehend from Professor McGonagall's lecturing last night, Ginny's parents would have received a summons to the castle for a conference this morning. That was, perhaps, the best reason of all to stay in bed today. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had invited him into their home, made him feel like part of their family, and now they had to give up their Sunday morning to come to Hogwarts because the boy they thought of as a son had been caught corrupting their only daughter. But finally, he couldn't ignore the clock on the wall any longer. He reluctantly climbed from the bed, having decided it was best to just get this over with so he could pack for Tibet, or wherever he was sure he would be banished to keep him from ravishing innocent girls. Albus was probably getting the one-way Portkey ready right now.

Sighing, he pulled himself together; even in his current state of mind he recognized that he was exaggerating to himself. Surely his Seba wouldn't abandon him, not when they had come so far together. Hadn't he already said as much? That thought in mind, he quickly dressed, trying to convince himself that the lightening flashing across the room was not an omen. He put on his freshly pressed school robes – _'thanks Dobby'_ – and left his room, forgoing the steaming tea cup also provided by the friendly elf. His stomach was already in knots.

Harry entered the sitting room to find Albus waiting patiently by the door to his office. As he sheepishly stepped forward, Albus held his arm out, and pulled the boy close in a half-hug. It ended quickly, and no words had been said, yet the action had spoken volumes. Harry knew that he would not be alone; that someone was on his side. The quiet was broken when an unfamiliar house-elf popped into the room to let them know that the Weasley's had arrived.

Steeling his nerve, Harry followed a much-too-calm Albus into the Headmaster's office to find Mr. and Mrs. Weasley already seated in the far left chairs. There were also three empty chairs, and together the seats made a semi-circle in front of Albus' desk. Harry hesitated just inside the door, noticing the confused look on Mr. Weasley's face as he realized Harry had come through the wrong door. Mrs. Weasley said a simple 'good morning', which Harry noted was missing its usual warmth, but also lacking in venom or hatred.

Before Harry could decide what he should do, the outer office door opened, and Professor McGonagall ushered Ginny inside. Albus stepped closer to Harry and put his hand on the boy's shoulder giving it a light squeeze, and then guided Harry into the middle of the three empty chairs, choosing the one on the far right for himself. Understanding, Ginny moved to the only remaining chair, between her mother and Harry.

As Ginny was taking her seat, Minerva had moved to take the empty seat behind the desk. Moving Albus' papers out of the way, she began, "Seeing as we are all present, let us begin."

Arthur interjected, "One moment, Minerva. I thought Harry's guardian was going to be present?"

"And so I am," Albus cheerfully announced. "And as his guardian, I felt that, under the circumstances, I would not be able to stay as objective as a Headmaster should, and so I have asked Professor McGonagall to act as administrator, which she has of course graciously agreed. And might I add, it has been a good many years since I have been on this side of the desk."

Arthur chuckled at the joke, knowing it was meant to break the tension. "I know you are his legal guardian Albus, but I thought perhaps the person that was actually handling him should be here."

"You misunderstand, Arthur. Harry has been living with me since he left his Aunt's house last July. I am his family now, and am present in today's meeting solely in that capacity." Albus reached over and gave the boy another pat, this time on his arm, causing him to finally look up from his lap and give his guardian a small smile.

"I see," Arthur finally said, and he really did. Observing the others in the room, he noted that the news didn't seem to surprise anyone else, not even his daughter. Molly actually looked a bit red in the face, and was willfully looking out the window. "Well then, it's been a few years since we had to do this with Bill, but I think I remember the procedure, so why don't I just start? Harry, Ginny, obviously you were found in a fairly compromising position. So perhaps we could save a lot of time if you just tell us exactly how far you have gotten. Do we need to be concerned about any little Potters making an appearance?"

"DAD!"

"Now sweetheart," an undeterred Arthur continued, "it's an honest question. Maybe your mother didn't do a good enough job of explaining things to you …" a quick look to his wife told him that was most certainly not the case. "Well then, you can understand our concern. Should we call Madame Pomfrey to do a quick check?"

Harry saw that Ginny was turning red, whether from embarrassment or anger he wasn't sure, but he decided he's better step in before things exploded. Clearing his throat to get the room's attention, he began. "That won't be necessary, Mr. Weasley, Sir. Things have never gotten that far –"

"We weren't really doing anything!" Ginny burst in.

"Professor Flitwick would beg to differ, Miss Weasley," McGonagall crisply replied.

"Well, he would be wrong, Professor," Ginny countered. "I mean, when he came in, we were just talking. Sure, we had our shoes and robes off, but everything else was where it was supposed to be." Ginny' face had turned even redder long before she finished speaking, and she couldn't seem to maintain eye contact as she spoke.

"You forget, I saw the two of you for myself. Not everything was where it was supposed to be, or does Mister Potter make it a habit of leaving his shirt buttons undone? And dare I ask if you have ever heard of proper under-clothing?"

Ginny sputtered. "Yes ... well ... I was a bit rushed in the locker room. I mean, it didn't have anything to do with Harry."

McGonagall leaned forward across the desk. "Are you claiming, Miss Weasley, that nothing happened in that room? That nothing was going to happen?"

Harry really wanted to be the one to answer, but Ginny was too quick. "Nothing was going to happen, we were already done … NO … I mean we were about ready to return to the common room, not that we had finished. But it wasn't what you think, we haven't … that is to say, we have done some things, obviously, but not _those_ things." Ginny stopped talking (finally). The two teens looked each other in the eye as Harry took her hand in his, taking up the lead.

"What Ginny is trying to say is that we've both agreed that we aren't ready for … certain things, and so we've made sure that things can't get to, er, that level. Nothing was going to happen last night. We had already decided we'd needed to stop for the night."

"With half your clothing off, Mister Potter?" the deputy Headmistress wanted to know.

Summoning the courage that allowed him to talk back to Voldemort himself, he looked her in the eye and responded, "actually, Professor, I wouldn't call it 'half'. We both had our pants and our shirts on, and they were going to stay that way."

As Minerva started to speak again, Molly interceded. "I'm sorry, but when you say you've made sure things can't happen, what exactly do you mean?"

Giving his guardian a quick look, Harry spoke in the general direction of his maybe future in-laws, and explained about the Chastity Charm they had found, and which he had cast on Ginny. As the interrogation progressed, he admitted to being 'zapped' twice by the charm last night. Arthur wanted to know more about the charm, so Dobby was summoned and sent to retrieve Harry's book from his trunk.

The room was mostly silent while they waited – Molly and Arthur Weasley were talking quietly amongst themselves – and Albus used the time to pour a cup of tea and hand it to Harry. He leaned close as he handed him the cup and assured Harry that things would be fine, before offering him a lemon drop. Harry didn't really want either, but he understood that Albus was really offering him comfort, so he accepted.

With an unusually loud pop, Dobby reappeared. "Here you is, Harry Sir," he said, trying to hand the book to Harry, but Arthur reached out and took it instead, earning himself a dirty look from the elf. He read the title, Kirk's Reference Guide, then opened the book and thumbed through it for a bit. Eventually he found the charm, and read everything the book had to say on the subject. "I've heard of this spell, but I've never seen it in use. You say that you feel a, what did you call it, a 'zap' when you stray too far south?"

Redder than Ron had ever been, Harry described the painful shocks he had received, but could tell that the adults seemed skeptical. As he talked, the other adults took turns reading about the charm. Minerva kept looking pointedly from the book to Albus, but he gave nothing away as he quietly listened to the others talk.

In the end, Arthur in particular was unconvinced. "There's nothing for it. I'm afraid we're going to have to see the charm in action to judge its effectiveness for ourselves." Harry was sure his heart had just stopped, and Ginny suddenly looked pale enough to faint. The adults, oblivious to the teens, immediately started arguing about the propriety of such a request. It was finally agreed that Ginny would stand and pull on the waistband of her jeans, only baring her hip so Harry could put his finger on her hipbone, and _absolutely_ no further.

And so, Harry found himself in the strange position of being forced to touch his girlfriend intimately – in front of her parents, his guardian, and their Head of House – so everyone could see how painful it was for him to do so. As he stood to bravely complete his assigned task, his eyes scanned the room, for he half expected Fred or George to jump out and shout "gotcha" at any moment. But they never materialized, and so he obediently touched his right index finger to Ginny's warm skin, yowling and pulling it back immediately. Apparently the book had underestimated the amount of time that had to pass before the charm 'reset' itself.

Seeing his extreme reaction, the adults were quick to concede that nothing too improper could have been happening between the teens. However, they could not ignore what they knew did happen. The Weasley's and McGonagall were discussing what rules had been broken, and the appropriate punishment for same, when Albus spoke up. "If I may, acting Headmistress, it would appear to me that we are looking at four possible infractions. One, students being out-of-bounds. Two, students being out after curfew. Three, students engaged in a public display of affection. And four, conduct unbecoming a Hogwarts student. Now, I am not downplaying the seriousness of the latter, but do you not agree that this incident does not quite rise to that level, especially given what we now know about the extent of their carefulness. And my I take a moment to remind Arthur and Molly of their own nocturnal activities as students, without the safety of any such spell?" He waited a moment for his words to have their effect, and he knew they had when the elder Weasley's turned matching shades of red. "And as for the other charges," he continued, "can we not be a bit lenient for two otherwise exemplary students?"

Harry was pretty sure McGonagall was about to point out that Harry had been caught out of bounds and out after curfew numerous times, so he decided to distract her with the one thing he could argue. "Actually, Professors, we weren't out past curfew. Madame Hooch extends curfew for the winning team to 10:30 as an incentive, and as you know both Ginny and myself are on the team. It was around 9:50 when Professor Flitwick found us. Had he not arrived, I believe that Ginny and I would have made it back to the common room with plenty of time to spare." Harry glanced at his guardian to see him nodding his agreement, the twinkle back in his eye.

However, before any more could be said, Albus suggested the teens wait in the hall so the adults could 'sort things out'. Knowing their fate was about to be decided, they meekly agreed. They went out to the hall, where Harry conjured them some odd looking but surprisingly comfortable chairs to sit in while they waited. The solid door had closed behind them, insuring that the conversation inside would not be overheard. At least, it wouldn't have been if Ginny had been anything but a Weasley. But since she was, she handed him a string, and they listened in.

McGonagall was yelling at the Headmaster, and Harry could imagine she was towering over a seated Albus, talking down to him like he was a misbehaved first-year. She was going on about the impropriety of giving a sixteen year old a sex manual. Her loud voice very nearly drowned out Molly Weasley berating her husband for getting them caught that one time back when they were students.

Eventually the temperature of the room came down, and Albus (who Harry could well imagine with a serene smile on his face) reasoned that they should all put their emotions aside for a moment. Yes, their young ones had acted irresponsibly, but they had done so in a responsible manner. (The old man just had to have held up his hand to forestall the inevitable interruptions following such an absurd statement.) Perhaps they had pushed the boundaries of propriety a bit, but unlike most students, they had insured they couldn't get lost in the throes of passion.

That was a phrase Harry had never thought he would hear from Albus – and he desperately hoped he never did again. He was suddenly having flashbacks to his embarrassing examination by Dr. Bombay. Looking at Ginny, he could see that she was also in shock.

Back in the office, Albus was explaining why he still felt the two could be trusted alone together. After all, he reasoned, the charm was still in effect, and since even Harry wasn't immune to pain, it would continue to do its job just fine. In other words, Ginerva's purity would remain intact.

In the hall, Ginny tried to hide her face while Harry chuckled and gave her a supportive pat on the knee.

The next few minutes were perhaps the most confusing of the morning. Molly Weasley had developed split-personality disorder; there was simply no other explanation. She wanted to have Harry moved out of Gryffindor Tower but was also planning their wedding; she insisted they not be alone together yet wanted to discuss birth control options just in case. Every time poor Arthur tried to agree with one of her ideas, she would call him either callous or naïve, depending on which personality he had agreed with.

Deciding that Molly would go in circles all morning if he let her, Arthur decided to change tactics. First off, he saw no point in trying to break them apart. After all, better a known enemy than an unknown. Instead, he suggested that they just talk to the teens and explain to them what is and isn't acceptable. And then, recast that charm themselves – maybe even see if it could be cast on Harry as well as Ginny.

Waiting outside, Harry popped the device out of his ear. He did not want to hear any more of this conversation. Ginny must have agreed, because she was already winding up the sting. The two spent the rest of their wait trying to name as many goblins as they could remember from History class. Half an hour later they were called back into the office to receive their sentence.

When they had reclaimed their seats, McGonagall was quick to get to business. It had been agreed that, for being out-of-bounds, the teens would be serving a detention helping (at Albus' suggestion) Hagrid with whatever he was working on. Also at Albus' suggestion, for their public display of affection, and were banned from the remaining Hogsmeade trips for the year. Having been denied those trips all of Third and part of Fifth Year, Harry didn't feel he would miss them anyways. Oddly enough, no one told them they couldn't spend said time together, only that they couldn't go to Hogsmeade. And, to his thinking, should they _really_ want to go, there was always his map and cloak, not that he planned on mentioning those.

The more serious charge of conduct unbecoming a Hogwart's student was dropped as the adults agreed nothing too 'unbecoming' had actually occurred. Harry silently counted his blessings; somehow, the adults had overlooked the most damning evidence – that of his unbuttoned pants and Ginny's pushed-up shirt. Twice the adults had danced around the subject, but both times it had been diverted. He couldn't help but think that without Albus on his side he would have been fed to the wolves, er, Weasley's. Albus' influence had probably saved him from Tibet.

Having the Headmaster on their side had proven to be a blessing in another way; the man had put his persuasive abilities to use, managing to talk McGonagall down to only 10 points each. Harry was in awe – McGonagall never budged when it came to house points. While it was nice that this would protect Gryffindor's chances for the House Cup, it was most important because it increased their chances of keeping their 'predicament' a secret. Harry had been especially concerned about this; he hadn't wanted to compromise Ginny's reputation.

Once the punishments had been meted out, the teens were forced to endure an hour-long lecture, mostly led by Professor McGonagall and Mrs. Weasley. It ranged from proper date etiquette to the failure rates of the most common anti-conception potions. Both women had apparently decided that without a mother to guide him, Harry was woefully uneducated in certain areas, so he was treated to a crash course in the female reproductive system. Finally, the torture ended and the teens were excused and Ginny hugged her parents, apologizing again for upsetting them.

Harry waited until she had finished before offering his own apology to the Weasley's. Mister Weasley shook his hand, saying that he trusted any questionable behavior would be put on hold until the time was right, causing Harry to blush as he mumbled 'yes, Sir'. Molly Weasley wasn't as subtle. She pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, and would not let go until he promised that they would 'save something for the marriage bed'. Albus merely smiled and nodded as Harry said goodbye, and Harry had the impression that Albus was over the bulk of his anger and was now enjoying his ward's discomfort.

Once safely out the door, they practically ran from the room and down the steps, racing through the halls until they came to a hardly-used passageway hidden behind a tapestry. Ginny dove behind the carpet, pulling Harry behind her. They looked at each other for a moment, then broke into laughter simultaneously.

Ginny recovered first. "I can't believe you had to talk about sex in front of my parents! I thought you were going to faint dead away when Mum asked if you understood everything, or if you wanted to ask my Dad any questions."

"No way was that going to happen," Harry snorted, "even if I did have questions. Like I want to admit to any of them that I'm curious about … ah, never mind. Anyway, that's what the book is for." He laughed again as he remembered, "I thought Seba was going to swallow his lemon drop when your Dad asked me where that book came from."

"Oh, don't remind me that the Headmaster now knows I wear pink underpants. At least he had the decency to look away." She sobered for a moment before adding, "It was weird having him sit on our side of the desk, though, wasn't it?"

Harry didn't agree, and he said as much. "Actually, it was kind of nice. He is my guardian, after all."

Ginny froze for a moment before exclaiming loudly, "Harry, the _Headmaster_ is your _guardian_!"

He looked at his girlfriend like she was being a bit slow. "Yeah, we've already talked about that, remember? That lovely meeting we just came from, and your little guessing game last fall?"

She swatted his arm. "Of course I remember, but I just thought that he would still act more, I don't know … detached. But he was acting all parental in there, like he's your Dad or something. Harry, he really cares about you, like a real parent. I guess I wasn't expecting that."

Harry just smiled.

As it turned out, Harry and Ginny got a slight reprieve, as Hagrid was busy with something 'student's can't help with' and so had scheduled their detention for a few weeks out. Over the next two weeks, Harry and Ginny were careful to avoid anything that could remotely be considered 'public displays of affection'. They had both noticed on numerous occasions that Professors Flitwick and McGonagall watched them in the Great Hall and the hallways. Luckily, no other students had noticed. In fact, the other students didn't appear to know much of anything about the incident. Harry was grateful that Ginny's reputation was intact, and had vowed to himself to keep it that way. The couple only told their closest friends – Hermione, Neville, and because she seemed to have arrived at just the right moment, Luna – what had happened; though Harry did warn Dean that he would do well to abandon the classroom.

As Harry was getting dressed one Saturday morning in early May, a house-elf delivered a note from Albus inviting Ginny to join them for their breakfast. Ginny's wanted to decline, but she was a Gryffindor after all, and it was also rather hard to tell the Headmaster no, and so the two of them went to the breakfast together. As Harry had predicted, once she had gotten over her embarrassment, she was able to relax and enjoy herself. It helped that Harry was obviously comfortable around the old wizard, for he hadn't had the slightest hesitation in talking about things one doesn't normally discuss with one's Headmaster, such as describing the twins' the latest invention.

Eventually, the discussion came around to more serious matters. Ginny was caught off guard when Harry started discussing Draco's task with the Headmaster, before realizing that of course they discussed it, given that Harry was helping to discover Draco's plan. But knowing something in the abstract is a lot different than experiencing it first hand. Harry, it turned out, had asked to hear the exact wording of both Draco's task and Snape's vow. It had taken some convincing on Snape's part, but he was finally able to provide Albus with Narcissa Malfoy's memory of Draco receiving his orders. Albus also had Snape's memory of his own vow.

Draco's task was actually straight forward, with no wiggle-room. "You will kill Albus Dumbledore before the approaching school year ends." Albus shared his suspicions that the attempt would occur on or shortly after May 26th, given Snape's orders regarding the Draught of Living Death. Ginny shivered as she heard the two talk so matter-of-factly of murder plots, doubly-so as she heard the wording of Snape's vow. It was strange, Ginny thought, to actually feel sorry for a person she normally despised.

Before the breakfast ended, Albus urged Harry to finalize his plans soon. Professor Snape was getting anxious as it was already into May, and Snape knew that if a plan was not in place when the time arrived, someone would die – most probably himself. Harry assured the man that he had recently come up with a good idea, and now that he knew the exact vow, he should be able to work out the details soon.

For Ginny, the high point of the morning had come when the Headmaster bid good day to Harry and 'Ginny', instead of 'Miss Weasley' or 'Ginevra'. Before leaving to serve their delayed detention, Harry again thanked Albus for being on their side during that dreadful meeting. He waved off the thanks, simply saying, "In such circumstances, is it not a parent's duty to defend their child?" Harry hadn't known how to respond, and had opted for ducking his reddened face and mumbling his goodbye.

The duo left the castle and headed to Hagrid's for their overdue detention, joking about what their detention would consist of as they went, each suggestion more outrageous than the last. Harry was actually looking forward to spending the day with his big friend; he hadn't had much free time to spend visiting this year. Granted, it came at the price of helping with whatever beast Hagrid was in love with this month – _'please not Aragog'_ – but it would be nice to visit nonetheless.

As it turned out, the 'beast' wasn't so bad. Fang, who Harry had grown close to over the summer, had been a naughty boy, and Hagrid was now the proud owner of 5 little puppies to prove it. The pups were 8 weeks old; old enough to be separated from their mother, but still young enough to crave warmth and attention. So while Fang watched from his place by the fire, Harry and Ginny sat on the floor letting the puppies climb and lick all over them. Harry laughed at their antics, but drew the line when one of the pups tried to chew his shoe. Hagrid was keeping his distance (he'd almost stepped on one of the pups), but was watching with a smile on his face and a tankard in his hand. The three humans enjoyed their visit together while they watched the litter.

Eventually Hagrid left the teens with their charges so he could go into the forest to tend an ailing Aragog, and the two proved to be good babysitters. By the time Hagrid returned, over two hours later, Ginny was entertaining 4 of the puppies by shooting sparks from her wand, while the fifth pup was curled up on Harry's lap, fast asleep. No mention was made of how the couple had kept themselves occupied for the two hours. When it was time to leave, Harry carefully handed the puppy, a small male he had laughingly named Norbert, to Hagrid. When asked, he explained that when the puppy had snored, it had sounded just like a certain other pet of Hagrid's. Giving Norbert one last pat on the head, he left with Ginny to head back to the castle.

After dinner that night, Harry asked his friends to join him outside the common room. He wanted to go to the Room of Requirement and see if he could 'require' it to be a passageway to another place, and his friends agreed to be lookouts again. They felt safe doing it this time, after all there was no Umbridge around waiting to catch them; just Snape, and this year he wasn't as intimidating as he used to be. After all, he had never attempted an Unforgivable on a student, at least not that they were aware.

Stepping out of the common room, he found the girls and Neville waiting. Ron was conspicuously absent; he hadn't been in the dorm or common room either, something that was happening a lot lately. Shrugging it off, Harry led his friends to the corridor. He had checked his map before they had left, and had seen Malfoy in the library (_'with a candlestick'_, his mind supplied), so he was taken by surprise when they turned to corner to find said Slytherin already pacing in front of the room, some unknown younger student slouched, apparently sleeping, against the wall. Before anyone realized what was happening, Malfoy had his wand drawn, preparing to curse Harry and his friends.

Harry was not going to be caught by Malfoy again, and in one fluid movement he had pulled his wand and shouted "Protego", all while looking Malfoy right in the eye, unwilling to show the slightest hint of fear. And that's when he did it. He couldn't say exactly why he even tried – he certainly wasn't trained in it, and besides, Malfoy knew how to defend against it. But try he did, and to his surprise he saw …

… An eleven-year-old Draco standing on the train, insulting Ron

'_not what I'm looking for'_

… Draco, watching as Dumbledore announces that Voldemort has returned and has killed Cedric Diggory

'_closer'_

… "And Draco, Potter is mine, not yours. Be sure to leave him alone." Draco nodding his understanding, unable to find his voice in front of his new master

'_just show me your plan'_

… Draco confiding to Moaning Myrtle that if he does not succeed, he and his mother could both lose their lives.

… Draco pacing outside the Room of Requirement, smiling as a familiar door appeared

'_I need details'_

… Draco looking down at the parchment in his hand. "The invasion will take place on May 26th. You will complete your task, and leave Potter to the others."

With a sudden push backwards, Harry felt the connection break as he fell into Neville, the two of them tumbling to the ground and thereby missing the curse Draco had sent. Ginny and Hermione acted fast – Ginny disarming Malfoy as Hermione stunned the other Slytherin student (better that than to risk him waking). As Harry and Neville picked themselves up and Ginny grabbed Malfoy's wand, Hermione turned back and cast a simple Confundus Charm down each end of the corridor, lest anyone else try to enter the area.

"What the bloody hell, Potter? Nobody told me you could do that! When the Dark Lord hears this – "

"Shut it, Malfoy," Ginny commanded, cutting him off.

As Malfoy opened his mouth to continue, Harry trained his wand firmly on the boy. "I would heed her advice if I were you. The twins taught her well."

Hermione, however, was looking between the two enemies, a calculating look in her eyes. "Harry, what just happened?"

"Not here, Mione. We can talk later. Right now, we need to figure out what to do with him."

That sounded a little too ominous for her taste. "What do you mean, do with him?"

Harry answered her, keeping his eyes and wand on Malfoy the whole time. "I know what's going to happen, and there's a lot more to it than we thought. We can't just let him go, he'll warn his puppet-master that we know, and they'll change their plans, and we'll lose our advantage. The question is; how do we ensure he keeps quiet?"

Hermione put the pieces together and figured out what had just happened, and she knew that there was another reason they needed to keep Malfoy quiet. Harry would be in no small amount of trouble for what he had done; Malfoy would see to that. "I'll figure something out, Harry. But what about the other kid?" The smaller boy was still out cold, and couldn't have seen anything anyway, having been asleep, but they couldn't leave him lying there unconscious.

Harry made a quick decision. He didn't want Ginny and Neville implicated in whatever he was about to do, and he did need someone to handle the boy. "Ginny, why don't you and Neville take Malfoy's little friend there, and dump him somewhere? Hermione and I will handle this end."

"No thanks, I think I'll stay."

Harry risked turning to his girlfriend, trusting the others to cover Malfoy as he explained, "Ginny, it's not that I don't think you're capable, it's just that we can't leave any loose ends. I'm not trying to get rid of you, I'm trusting you to handle part of the problem for me. Understand?"

Ginny understood. She was, in fact, being sent on her way; maybe not because he didn't think she was capable so much as he wanted her away from the trouble. Granted, he had a point; the other boy did need to be dealt with, but surely she could help him as well as Hermione? She hesitated a moment, wanting to demand that he let her stay. However, she quickly realized that this was neither the time nor the place for such an argument; that in front of the enemy they had to be a united front. Finally, shooting her boyfriend a deadly glare, she nodded her agreement.

As she started to move, Harry stopped her to long enough to exchange Malfoy's wand for his father's cloak, trusting that she would wait until she was out of Malfoy's sight before using it. As their hands brushed he gave her a warm smile, and her glare softened just a touch. The moment passed quickly, and Harry forced his mind back to the blond in front of him. He pocketed the other boy's wand as Ginny coolly asked Neville to go ahead as a lookout while she levitated the boy ahead of her. Before Neville could move away Harry had aimed his wand back at Malfoy and reminded the boy to stand still.

Soon it was just the three of them in the quiet corridor. Harry was standing directly in front of his childhood enemy, his wand confidently pointed at the other boy's heart. It struck Harry how his relationship with Malfoy had changed this year. They were no longer children fighting over petty issues; this was war, and they were enemies. But for a split second, he saw the arrogant little boy that had so confidently put down 'those kind', and he felt pity for what that boy had become.

The silence continued as Malfoy watched his every move, expecting an attack. In fact, Malfoy was so focused on Harry that he overlooked the witch behind him. A mistake he would live to forget, as it turned out.

"Obliviate!"

**** end chapter ****

**Notes:** I'm sure some of you will think Harry and Ginny got off easy, but think about it – they had to discuss their 'sex lives', in detail, with their parent/guardians/teachers. The rest was really just the icing on the cake.

So why wasn't Albus more upset? Because he's all about choices. And while making out (sorry, snogging) in a public room wasn't a wise choice, deciding they weren't ready for sex yet was an awesome choice.

Oh, about that Clue reference – it had to be done. It popped into my head as I was typing that sentence, and it refused to leave until I added it. There was also a line from Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade buried in there somewhere.


	32. When werewolves cry

Legalities: I don't own Ron Weasley. People usually say they don't own Harry Potter, but they never mention Ron. It makes him feel unloved. He's a fictional person too, you know.

Also, for those keeping track, this chapter covers May 10th and 11th.

.

.

**32. When Werewolves Cry  
**

After sending Malfoy on his way, Harry and Hermione high-tailed it straight to Albus' office. Not knowing the candy of the month, Harry used his private password to open the doorway and led Hermione into the Headmaster's office. They found the old man standing out his window, gazing at the school grounds below. Upon hearing them enter Albus turned, surprised to see his young charge again so soon. "Well, this is a surprise. To what do I owe this visit?" He moved to his desk as he motioned for to the teens be seated.

Harry hadn't even made it to his seat before he started explaining, "It's an invasion, Seba. Malfoy's planning to bring Death Eaters into the castle, and part of the plan involves me. At least, he's been told to leave me to the others. I think they plan to take me. What are we going to do? I mean, we can't just let Death Eaters into the castle –"

"Breathe, Harry, and do sit down," Albus calmly said, before calling an elf to bring tea and biscuits. Harry had long ago learned that this was his guardian's way of giving him time to calm his emotions and organize his thoughts. After everyone had their drink, he invited Harry to continue.

"We were going to the Room of Requirement to do some investigating, when we found Malfoy trying to enter. And he, er, inadvertently revealed his plan to me. Or, at least part of it."

Albus responded, "Yes, I had gathered as much from your earlier statement. But what I do not understand is how he 'inadvertently' gave away a plan that he has kept, previous to this point, carefully guarded from even his own allies."

Harry looked up from his cup to see Albus watching him over his glasses, and knew he had to come clean. Albus may not know exactly what had happened, but he probably had his suspicions, not to forget that the man was tricky in his own use of Legilimency. He took a slow sip of his tea to buy himself some time before eventually setting his cup aside and looking at his guardian as he spoke. "I saw it in his mind, Sir. I didn't mean to do it, it just happened. One minute we were looking each other in the eye, well, glaring at each other, and then, I just saw it."

Albus sighed, feeling every one of his hundred-plus years. "Legilimency does not just happen, Harry. You have to mean it."

A memory surfaced, _'you have to mean them, Potter'_, and he shuddered. Looking away from Albus, he noticed Hermione was looking between the Headmaster and himself, clearly deep in thought. Shifting his attention back to Albus, he agreed, "You're right, Sir. I guess I did mean it. I just … we really needed to know what he has planned, you know? And we were standing there, and he was staring at me, and I thought, why not try?"

"And what do you suppose shall happen when he reports this incident to Voldemort, Harry? Do you not think that the plans will be altered in some fashion, no doubt to lure you into a trap?"

Harry and Hermione shared a look, Harry shaking his head slightly to the girl, before he answered. "He won't be telling anyone, Sir. He doesn't exactly remember it."

Albus folded his hands on his lap, thankful that the portraits were keeping silent even though they were openly following the conversation. Since Harry had come to stay with him, the old Masters and Mistresses tended to stay close to the office, and rarely tried to hide their obsession with Albus' new relationship with the Boy Who Lived. The only exception being Phineas, who was no doubt elsewhere in the castle sulking, as he was wont to do since Sirius' death. Ignoring his attentive audience, he slowly spoke, "I see. Pray tell, what exactly does he remember?"

Harry was at a loss, for Hermione had been the one to perform the spell, not him. He had hoped to keep that fact a secret, but now they were both caught. He motioned for Hermione to speak up, which she did with no sign of trepidation in her voice. "He thinks that he got to the room, but couldn't get the door open. And after trying for a few minutes, he gave up and left, leaving his spotter asleep on the floor, and heading to his common room."

Albus looked between the two for a moment, before focusing on Hermione. "And how can you be so certain of that, Miss Granger?"

Now, being the brightest witch of her year, Hermione was quick to realize the Headmaster already knew the answer, but that he was giving her the chance to confess.

"I Obliviated him, Sir," she admitted before rushing to add, "it seemed the smart thing to do. We couldn't risk him knowing that Harry can perform Legilimency, let alone him changing his plans. Harry was right in that."

Albus looked between the two as he asked, "And it did not occur to either of you to call for myself, or any other Order member here within the castle?"

The two looked at each other, similar looks on their faces, and Albus had his answer. In the heat of the moment, neither had thought to do what to him was the obvious.

It was Harry who voiced their response. "No, Sir, we didn't. But I must say, even if we had thought of it, I still think we made the right choice. Things have a way of happening fast in this castle. Malfoy needed to be dealt with before something could go wrong, and waiting for an Order member to arrive would have given Malfoy time to get away, or one of his friends the time to find us. I learned that lesson Fourth Year, when Barty Crouch was killed while I wasted time trying to get into your office."

While Albus contemplated this, Harry paused to consider how best to say the next part. "I am sorry I've disappointed you. But wasn't the whole point in me being trained so that I would be ready to deal with any situation that may arise?" Harry let that sink in before continuing, "If Malfoy and I were normal students, I would expect you to throw the book at me. But we aren't normal students. He _is_ a Death Eater, no matter how much we like to gloss over that fact. One who is actively plotting your murder, I might add. And all due respect, but you need to stop thinking of him as a student, and start thinking of him as your enemy. A reluctant enemy, maybe, but an enemy nonetheless. I did what I had to do to get the information we needed, and unlike how Death Eaters operate, no one was hurt in the process."

By this point, Albus was staring intently at the boy; knowing he was right, but not liking it. Albus thoroughly despised the phrase 'for the greater good', but he understood that in war, sometimes, the end did justify the means. What he hated most was that Harry had already been forced to learn this lesson.

Hermione, meanwhile, had turned a nice shade of red at hearing Harry for all intent and purposes telling off the Headmaster and Leader of the Order. In the back of her mind, she was busy solving a puzzle that had started when she had overheard the password Harry had tried to whisper ('family first'), and was concluding with his obvious familiarity with the older wizard.

Albus finally broke the silence. "Very well. You are correct that in this instance, you were acting not student against student, but Order against Death Eater. As such, I will not be addressing this in any official school capacity. And as Leader of the Order of the Phoenix, I commend the two of you for your quick thinking and successful intelligence gathering, but hope you understand that my saying so does not give you free reign for similar actions in the future." He looked them both in the eye until they nodded their acceptance, then continued, his eyes resting on his charge. "However, as one who cares, Harry, I cannot let your actions go unanswered. We agreed, did we not, that you would not be learning Legilimency until you were finished with Hogwarts?"

He waited for Harry's acknowledgment before continuing. "There are many dangers to performing such magic without proper training." Albus glanced at his boy's friend, "The same can be said for your memory charm, Miss Granger. And I cannot help but think that your parent's would share my concern, and would appreciate me acting in their steed in this instance." The teen nodded her understanding.

"Therefore, I am assigning each of you an essay. Yours, Harry, will be on the proper uses of Legilimency, including correct technique and a detailed accounting of the problems that can arise when the spell is incorrectly cast. Perhaps it would also be helpful to recall your own experiences on the receiving end of the spell. Miss Granger, yours shall be on Memory Charms, with emphasis on Obliviate. I trust you will include instances where the charms should and should not be used, and perhaps both of you can explain the ethics involved in using the spells on unsuspecting victims. You will each make your essay as long as you feel it needs to be to completely cover your topic. I imagine this will take you no small amount of time, so I will give you until the leaving feast to hand in your essays. Oh, and I will inform Madam Pince that you are to have free access to the Restricted Section for your research, during normal hours only, of course," he added with a wink.

Having been properly chastised, the teens spent the next half hour with Albus going over exactly what Harry had seen, and combined that with the information they already had. Hermione had been surprised to be included in the conversation, but Albus explained that it 'cut out the middle man', as Harry would just tell her what was discussed anyway. In the end, it was clear to them that Harry would need to be careful on the 26th, lest he fall into Voldemort's hands. Further planning would be needed to insure his safety without locking him in a tower, as a certain someone had suggested.

Their business concluded for the evening, Albus escorted the two to the door of his office, allowing Hermione to exit by asking for a private moment with Harry. Putting his hand on Harry's arm, he spoke quiet enough to not be overheard, but Harry didn't miss a word. "I find us having a good many of these so-called parenting moments of late. I wonder, have you always had this aversion to following rules, and I have just never noticed?"

Harry looked to his guardian wide-eyed, before breaking into a smile. "Not an aversion to rules so much as an allergic reaction to dark plots and death attempts."

Laughing, Albus gave Harry's arm a light squeeze before allowing him to join Hermione outside the door. As the two left the office and headed down the staircase, Harry could see that Hermione had something to say. Hoping to distract her, he talked about how to find the time to work on their essays. He knew his attempt had failed when she guided him, not toward the common room, but back to the Room of Requirement. Knowing there would be no escape, Harry silently allowed her to summon a room and lead him through the doorway.

The room they entered looked like a muggle sitting room, and watching Hermione's ease as she dropped onto the worn but cozy sofa, Harry figured it must be a replica of her parent's house. Taking a seat on the opposite end, Harry turned his body toward hers and waited for her to begin, which she immediately did.

"I honestly don't know where to start. Obviously, the Headmaster is your guardian. How did that happen? Did you live with him this summer? Is he really 'the Skipper'? Oh, that's how you got the PEE edition of Hogwarts: A History, isn't it? …"

Harry let her ramble on until she finally seemed to run out of questions, then he took her hand in his, and began his story. He told her some of his problems from last summer, and about how the Headmaster had come to see him and listened to him – _really listened_ – before deciding to take him into his own home. They laughed as he told her about some of the fun he'd had at the cottage over the summer, and especially about Uncle Abe, who yes, was that bartender, and yes, did have a thing for goats. She looked close to tears as he described his birthday celebration and his first 'family' Christmas (that he could remember, anyways); but Harry could tell they were happy tears.

Or course, he had glossed over the worst of his problems last summer, not mentioning Dr. Tony at all. He was certain she had picked up on the fact that some things were missing, but thankfully, she hadn't questioned him on it. He also refused to tell her where he and the Headmaster lived, and didn't go into much detail about his feelings for the old man. But then again, knowing his best friend as he did, he knew she had probably figured that part out for herself.

In the end, Hermione couldn't believe that she hadn't put it together sooner, for in hindsight he was the obvious choice. She reasoned that Harry's sudden desire to do well in his studies should have been another give-away. But then, perhaps it hadn't been so easy to see the change because the Headmaster had always paid special attention to Harry. Harry laughed as he told her to shush, as Professor Snape would hold it over him for life if he heard Harry admit that.

Eventually the two made their way to the common room to trade stories with Ginny and Neville, but when they entered the room Harry was practically jumped by his irate girlfriend. She jerked him along behind her as she confidently made her way up the stairs to his dorm room. Hermione and Neville followed; Hermione thinking that her friends might need a referee, and poor Neville not realizing the fight that was about to erupt.

The latter two entered the dorm room to a spectacular telling off, in which Ginny was accusing Harry of everything from babying her to not trusting her. Giving his best friend (who was wisely staying just inside the door) a glance, Harry allowed his girlfriend to talk herself out. When she was done, he carelessly dropped his wand onto his bed and stepped toward her. He caught her off guard as he grabbed her by the arms and pulled her close, but instead of saying anything in his own defense, he kissed her soundly.

As he pulled back, he calmly said, "it wasn't about any of that, and you know it. I just needed Hermione with me right then. Honestly, I needed her mind to get me out of the spot I'd created. She's quite the thinker, you know." He caught her face between his hands so she couldn't turn away, and continued, "Look, Hermione and I have been having these little adventures for six years now, and we work well together. But that doesn't mean I somehow think less of you. This wasn't about us, this was about the war, something I've been involved in much deeper than any of you. When it comes to anything related to Voldemort and his band of merry men, I have to know that you will respect my decisions."

Harry hoped she would agree. One of the things he had come to realize this year was that, no matter how much he tried to deny it, he _was_ a leader. Anyone that wanted to follow him needed to do just that – follow. Over Ginny's shoulder, he saw Hermione nodding her head in agreement, and Neville smiled as he too nodded.

"Yeah, I get it. I just don't like it," Ginny finally said.

"I don't exactly like it myself," he replied, pulling her into a hug. He whispered for her, "Thank you for understanding. I really need you, too."

Hermione allowed them their privacy for a moment before she moved into the room, jokingly demanding to hear what the other two had done after leaving the hallway. Neville described their trip through the castle before turning the story over to Ginny, who gleefully explained that the boy had been left, still out cold, outside Snape's office, so it would look like he had been waiting for the Professor. Not having as much experience as Hermione in the adventure department, they had merely Confunded him. Harry hadn't understood why she was laughing as she told him, until Neville had added that they had wrapped a Gryffindor scarf around his neck, and Ginny had added a lipstick kiss to his cheek.

Hermione reluctantly confessed her own crime, leading to those two highlighting their discussion with the Headmaster, and their assignments. They were both careful not to let slip anything regarding the more personal side of Harry's relationship with Albus. In introspect, Harry realized that both of the girls in his life knew about his guardianship, yet Ron did not. And Harry had no intention of letting him in on that secret. It was, he realized, one more indication that he and Ron, while still friends, were not as close as they used to be.

-0000-

Harry awoke early the next morning and headed to the Shrieking Shack for his training. He wanted to get there before his teacher _de jour_ so he could do some stretches, and maybe practice some spells. To his surprise and delight, it was Remus Lupin who finally arrived. The two shared greetings, and spent some time catching up before they got down to business. As they worked, Harry was particularly ferocious in his teasing about a certain colorful Auror whom he had tricked into admitting her crush on the ex-professor. He suspected that Remus reciprocated her feelings, but was hesitant to act on them due to his furry problem.

As their time progressed, Harry found it harder and harder to stay focused. The two had started a contest of sorts, each trying to make the other laugh too hard to defend themselves. After only two hours, Remus called a halt to the contest after Harry had landed a particularly nasty Babbling Curse, which Remus had no choice but to talk off; sharing with Harry his theory on how owls find mail recipients (it's all in the intent of the sender) and his opinion on keeping double-ended newts as pets (what's the point if you can't tell which end is the head?).

While waiting for the curse to wear off, Harry had transfigured a couch (nearly identical to the couch he had claimed as his back at the cottage) from a broken chair. Once Remus was able to shut up, they relaxed and settled in for a more meaningful discussion. It was as they reminisced about their Patronus lessons that Harry broached a subject that had been on his mind for a while – boggarts. Or, more specifically, his boggart.

As Remus sat back and crossed his legs to get comfortable, Harry explained that in the past, his greatest fear manifested itself in the form of a Dementor. However, last Christmas, Mrs. Weasley had trouble facing her boggart – it taking the forms of dead family members (Harry included). He vividly recalled the trouble she had battling the creature, which was only banished once Mad-Eye Moody had intervened.

Harry's concern, it seemed, stemmed from the idea that her boggart would become his boggart. That is to say, his greatest fear was now losing those he loved, those he considered his real family; and so his boggart would now take that form, just as it had for Mrs. Weasley. And like Mrs. Weasley, he didn't think he could find a way to make such a boggart funny. In short, he wouldn't be able to defeat one.

Remus, who had been nodding his understanding though Harry's explanation, waited for him to finish before speaking. "Believe me, I understand exactly what you're saying. Do you think it was easy for me to turn my boggart – a full moon, representing the werewolf within me, mind you – into something laughable? It took me years to come to terms with it. I remember my Defense O.W.L. practical. By then of course, the Marauders knew my secret. When that boggart turned, those present recognized the orb for what it was. I panicked, rather irrationally afraid that I would transform right there in the Great Hall with my classmates watching, and shouted the wrong spell – Furnunculus, to be exact."

"The boil-causing curse?" Harry asked, failing to hide the laughter in his voice. "What happened?"

"Yes, well, the spell bounced right off the boggart, flew to my left, and hit an unsuspecting Hufflepuff; Danny Sprout if I remember correctly. In any event, the boy in question suddenly found himself covered in boils, and he immediately looked in the direction the spell had come from, which of course meant he was now staring straight at the boggart. In the blink of an eye, it shifted into a troll in a pink tutu, attempting an arabesque even as it swung its club around. The move was as graceful as it was surreal. It took a moment for the examiners to realize what had happened, and in that short amount of time, the troll had demolished the glass tanks holding the grindylows, and the slimy little buggers jumped around the room clawing and biting at the students before any could react.

"All the testing had to come to a complete stand-still while the mess – and the boggart – were cleaned up. Needless to say, my Defense practical left much to be desired." He paused, giving Harry a wolfish grin. "Rather ironic that I eventually taught the subject, don't you think? Peter was laughing so hard he wasn't paying attention, and the horklump he was supposed to subdue sunk it's teeth into his hand, intent on having a snack. Your Dad, bless him, saw the whole thing, but never once laughed at me. Sirius, I'm sure, would have made fun until his dying day had he been in the hall at the time."

Remus stopped for a moment, appearing to Harry to be lost in the memory. The lapse was fine with Harry, who found he sometimes needed a minute himself when he heard stories from what he thought of as the pre-dark days. After a while, Remus visibly pulled himself back to the present. "Sorry, I seem to have gotten a bit off topic. I believe we were discussing your fear of losing your family. I suppose, Harry, that having a family can be both our greatest strength and our greatest weakness. Family are those rare individuals that we can both love and hate at the same time. But don't you dare think that you should give up your family while you fight this war, in the misguided effort to protect yourself from their potential loss. After all, where would you be today without the love of your mother and father? And where would your cousin Dudley be without your love? Wasn't that what gave you the strength to stay and fight off those Dementors – your love, however deeply buried it normally is, for your cousin?" Remus held up his hand to stop Harry from interrupting. "Love and hate at the same time, Harry. Or as a friend once put it, you don't have to like your family to love them. Do you understand?"

And in reflecting on what Remus had said, Harry did understand. In his innocence of childhood, he had loved his cousin, even when the boy was bullying at his worst. In truth, that hidden love was what had made the bullying so horrible; for from Piers and the others, it never hurt quite as much. Slowly, he nodded his agreement.

"Alright then, enough with the philosophy for today. On to something a bit more practical. If Riddikulus fails, try casting a strong Patronus. I suspect its positive emotions would be enough to drive off any boggart. If nothing else, the sight of Prongs should raise _your_ spirits enough for another try at the boggart. Right?"

"Yeah," Harry laughed. "I think that would work fine. And about the rest of what you said; you should take your own advice. Stop turning Tonks down because you're afraid of hurting her, and go out with her already."

"My case is different," Remus said wearily, "nobody should get too close to a werewolf."

"Fine then," Harry smirked, "only go out with her when you're in human form."

Harry decided that that was a good time to return to the castle, so he bid Remus farewell, and headed back through the passageway. He always used his cloak when he exited from under the tree, so anyone looking would only observe the tree freeze for a moment, but nothing more. And as few gave the wild tree more than a passing glance most days, Harry doubted even that was noticed.

After lunch, Harry had arranged for another planning session, as he needed to finalize his plan to save Snape. With only fifteen days to go until Malfoy put his plan into action, Snape was starting to, as the Headmaster had put it, 'badger like a Hufflepuff' for details to the plan. Ron hadn't been invited – he didn't know about Harry's assignment to save Snape, and probably wouldn't have wanted to help if he had. Besides, Harry was of the opinion that Ron had been avoiding him since the parental inquisition. On the other hand, Harry had been convinced by the girls to include Neville, who had eagerly agreed to join them.

Not wanting to use chance using the Room of Requirement in case Malfoy was plotting, Harry led the group up to his dorm room. He and Ginny sat comfortably on his bed, backs against the headboard. Hermione transfigured his bed-side table into a chair while Neville choose to simply sit on top of Harry's trunk. Thus positioned, they got down to business. After bringing Neville up to speed, Harry launched into an overview of his plan for Snape. When he finished, Hermione declared the plan 'absolutely brilliant' and assured him that she would deliver the potions he had requested the day before he needed them. Using them correctly would be up to Harry.

Of course, she also asked loads of question – 'the devil's in the details, Harry!' – prompting Harry to rethink a few parts. In the end, Neville admitted to being thoroughly confused, but Ginny was positive Professor Snape would survive to traumatize the next batch of First Years.

Harry jotted a quick note to the Headmaster – _Please inform Professor Snape that he should present himself in your office at 11:00 PM the evening of the 25__th__, so he can be turned into a lovely side table for the big day. _Calling Dobby, he asked the excited elf to deliver the note when Albus was alone.

Relieved that the plan was complete, they celebrated with Butterbeers which for some reason Ginny just happened to have in her school bag. Somehow, they ended up playing a game of chess; Neville and Harry against Ginny and Hermione. At least it was a close loss, Harry thought, as he followed the others down for dinner.

Although the rest of the day passed easily enough, overall it had been a hectic weekend, as evidenced by Harry's inability to get to sleep that night. His mind replayed his confrontation with Malfoy, questioning if he had done the 'right thing' or just the 'easy thing', alternately with the plans he'd made for Snape, hoping that it would be enough to save the man's life. Harry didn't really like him much – and probably never would – but he agreed with Albus in that Snape was trying to do the right thing himself, and he didn't deserve to die. In past years, he would have argued quite stringently the other way, but as the saying goes, that was then and this was now.

He'd been under Albus' guardianship for close to a year now, and he liked to think that he had gained a new perspective, not to mention a bit of maturity, in that time. Sure, he knew the vow Snape had made, but he had heard first-hand how repulsed Snape was by the idea of killing Albus. There was no longer any doubt in Harry's mind but that Snape had renounced his dark lord, even if Harry didn't understand what had made him change sides. _'Well, maybe just the tiniest bit of doubt.'_

Deciding that he needed to do something to calm his mind, he turned to a trusty old favorite. Pulling out what looked like a rectangular-shaped potion vial, he tapped it as he said the incantation, and in its place, Harry was holding a paperback. He smiled as he opened the cover and read the name handwritten within, remembering how he had gotten this particular book.

Last month, when Professor Fortescue had assigned a report _"telling me something I don't know about the Dark Creature of your choice"_, Harry had put off the assignment to focus on an Arithmancy project. So, of course, when he finally got there, all the good books had been taken from the library. Then, in a moment of inspiration, he had decided to use his God-given – or rather, godfather given – gifts, and had sent Kreacher to Number 12 with the simple instructions to bring back all the books he could find about werewolves. And there, buried in the bottom of the box that Kreacher had delivered, was an old paperback book, in near pristine condition, with the name 'Walburga Black Black' proudly written inside.

It was, according to the front cover, a 'Magical Romance'. The artwork depicted a young woman in a very short nightdress, her hair and cloak streaming in the wind behind her, as she ran down a dirt path away from a large manor. There was a silhouette of a man watching her escape. The caption read, 'she's a young witch escaping a marriage arranged by her cruel Uncle; he's a dragon tamer haunted by past mistakes; their fates collide _When Werewolves Cry_.'

Harry settled comfortably against his pillow and began to read, laughing to himself as he read the description of the heroine, Natalia DeVirgin – a slender beauty whose red hair matched her fiery temperament. The plot was a bit weak; because really, how could a dragon tamer be expected to stop a werewolf from biting a dragon? And he highly doubted a were-dragon was even possible, magic not withstanding. But then, he wasn't really reading it for the well-reasoned plot. As he started to really _get into_ the story, he smirked for a moment, wondering how the old cow would react if she knew how he _enjoyed_ her precious book.

**** end chapter ****

**Notes:** An arabesque is a ballet move where a person balances on one leg, and extends the other behind them. In figure skating, its also called a spiral.

So, do I really think Harry loves his relatives? Absolutely. Love is his greatest power, after all; according to Albus, he's full of the stuff. Don't get me wrong, he knew he wasn't treated right. But I can't help but think that if he hadn't loved his family to some degree, he would have done a lot worse than grow back hair, shrink sweaters, and make some glass disappear.

This time, I made up my own romance story, although as they are all pretty much the same, I'm sure you could find one out there that matches my description, dragon tamer and all. If you're wondering about Harry's paper, he got an Outstanding, as Professor Fortescue did not, in fact, know that male werewolves are sterile because, while the body changes from human to wolf, the sperm doesn't. (I had to cut this from the story because it just didn't flow, but decided to put it here as a 'bonus'.)


	33. Secrets, Trust, and Brian

I'll tell you a secret. I don't own any part of the official Harry Potter universe, but I do own a silly little ditty called 'Puppy don't get lost' that I co-wrote with my sister when I was six. I will NOT be telling you how it goes, but suffice to say, the phrase 'puppy don't get lost' was overused.

.

.

**33. Secrets, Trust, and Brian**

Monday morning came much too early to Harry's way of thinking. He'd had trouble falling to sleep the previous night, even after he'd relaxed with his book. No doubt as a result, for the first time in months he'd been pulled to Voldemort as he slept. It happened so rarely these days, thanks to those wonderful pills Dr. Tony had prescribed, that Harry had practically forgotten how they felt. Luckily, this one hadn't been so bad, comparatively speaking. He couldn't even remember very many specifics of the meeting, but that might have been because the topic of the evening had been pretty dry. Voldemort needed money, and he expected his Death Eaters to provide. Harry guessed the dark lord business just didn't pay much these days.

One thing he did recall – he couldn't _not_ recall this feeling, as it had stayed with him – was an almost-overwhelming sense of anticipation. And so now, in early morning sunlight, Harry sat on his bed, breathing deeply as he tried to mesh that feeling with his own unease. No wonder his feelings had been so erratic of late!

But he had classes to get to, so with effort he pushed those thoughts aside as he swung his legs over the side of the bed, slowly pushing his body off the bed and in the general direction of the bathroom. As he shuffled across the room, his foot made contact with something, which then slid across the floor and banged into the wall just to the left of Neville's foot. The other boy absently reached down to pick up the item at about the same time that Harry's drowsy mind registered what it was. His book. Yeah, that book. _'crap!'_

Neville looked at the cover of the book for a moment before walking over and handing it to Harry. The only thing he said was, "I think Gran might have that one at home" before he made his way to his area to finish getting dressed. As Harry stood there looking blankly at the book he was loosely holding in his hand, Neville called out, "best hurry mate, or you'll miss breakfast," then left the room.

Before heading to the shower, Harry transfigured the book into an empty potion vial and replaced it in his trunk, vowing not to take it out again while in the dorms. To his eternal gratitude, Neville didn't mention the book when they saw each other in the Great Hall, and it appeared he had no intention to do so as the days went past.

That Thursday during Defense class, Professor McGonagall came knocking on the classroom door, catching everyone's attention. She politely informed Professor Fortescue that she needed to take Harry for the remainder of the class. Harry shrugged to Hermione's questioning look as he shoved his things into his book bag, then followed Minerva to Albus' office in comfortable silence. Somehow, he knew he wasn't in any trouble this time.

Once Minerva had left, and Harry had helped himself to a piece of candy from the dish, Albus explained to him that his presence was required at an Order meeting over the dinner hour. It was time to finalize their plans for the 26th, and against the objections of some, Albus wanted Harry to be an open, active part of the meeting. He felt Harry should have a say in what was planned, since said planning directly affected his well-being.

Harry appreciated the chance to attend (without being hidden under his cloak), but he was curious why he had been summoned more than an hour before the meeting. He was about to ask when Albus left his seat and moved to the fireplace. Instead of answering Harry's unasked question, Albus simply asked the boy to follow along as he moved to the floo and called out, not Number 12, but the cottage at Sarag's Glen.

Back in their comfortable family room, Harry flopped comfortably on his couch while Albus moved his own chair closer to Harry, allowing for a more intimate discussion.

"Before we face the masses, Harry, I felt there were a few issues we best have worked out amongst ourselves. We must prepare ourselves for the worst, as unpleasant as it may be. If by some chance Draco Malfoy succeeds in killing me, the plan to defeat Voldemort must continue, and there are a few things we can do to optimize your chances." He paused, taking a moment to see that he had Harry's full attention. "The easiest, first, I think. With me no longer available, you would need a new legal guardian, even if only for the few months until you turn seventeen. Without a written and binding declaration, people of unscrupulous natures may try to insert themselves into your life. That is, I feel - and I know you will agree, a situation best avoided. Now, I recommend Minerva; is this acceptable to you?"

Harry hadn't been expecting the question, but it took him very little time to respond, "Yes, Seba, it's acceptable, as long as you understand that I have no intention of actually letting Malfoy succeed."

"Understood, Harry, and I share the sentiment." Albus summoned parchment and quill, and with a quick spell, words were flowing onto the paper. When it stopped, Albus was holding a simple codicil to his will, naming Minerva McGonagall as Harry's guardian in the event of his death. He signed the document and handed it to Harry to read.

After looking over the document, Harry hesitantly asked, "But I wonder, what about the Order? I mean, who's going to be in charge of the Order if you, er …"

"Cease to be, Harry?" Seeing his nod, Albus continued, "In the past, I believe it had been assumed that Minerva would step forward. Why, did you have someone in mind?"

Harry quickly looked up from the parchment. "You're asking my opinion on who the next leader should be?"

"If the worst truly comes to pass, and in addition to my death, Voldemort has succeeded in his plan to capture you, this person will be charged with retrieving you from his clutches. And, you may be surprised to know that I find myself being swayed to your way of thinking, in that I should choose another to bring into our confidence, if for no other reason than the fact that neither you nor I is indestructible. I would not want the Order left with the fool's mission of trying to destroy that which cannot be destroyed. There is also the simple fact that the Order could assist you in your quest to find and destroy the remaining Horcruxes. Therefore, it only makes sense to me that you should have a say. Mind you, this will need to be discussed at the meeting, and the final decision will be mine. But to finally answer your question; yes, I most certainly welcome your input."

What followed was a free-flowing discussion, where Harry weighed the pros and cons of each candidate while Albus provided additional information and corrected misconceptions as needed. He eventually threw his support behind Mr. Weasley, mainly for the reason that Albus and Minerva are both at the school, and in the upcoming attack they could both be lost. Albus found himself impressed by Harry's mature handling of the subject. Practically clapping in his appreciation, he proclaimed, "An excellent and lively debate, my boy. Just one more thing, I should think, and then we can leave for the meeting. I hope you do not mind, but I would like Aberforth to attend this meeting, and as he does not know the location of Headquarters, we will be picking him up."

"No, that's fine," Harry replied, wondering if this was connected to the one remaining thing. "I haven't seen him in a while, so it'll be nice to visit."

"If you say so, Harry," Albus said, although he didn't sound like he agreed. "Than I shall endeavor to keep this short so you have time for your visit. As you are aware, I am the Secret-Keeper of the Order of the Phoenix. However, unknown to all – excepting yourself now – I have used a bit of magic to combine the original Fidelius Charm with a few other tidbits. So in addition to the location of Headquarters, I hold, for example, the complete listing of every Order member protected in my mind. My point being, as Secret-Keeper, I hold more that just that one secret. I fear that in the event of my demise, some of the information I have amassed would be lost, as it is known only to me. In addition, no longer having a Secret-Keeper would make it a bit difficult to bring new members to Headquarters, wouldn't you think? Not to mention the troubles you would have after the war should you decide to sell the house, or even just invite new friends over."

Harry was caught off guard. "Oh, well, I never really thought about that. But what would we do? You aren't going to get rid of the Fidelius, are you?"

"Good heavens, no. The Fidelius Charm is a powerful weapon –"

"As long as you don't have a traitorous rat as your Secret-Keeper!" Harry interjected.

"Yes, well, traitorous rats aside," Albus replied, making a sweeping motion with his hand, "it is a useful spell, one that has protected us from Voldemort and his forces well in the past two years."

Harry had to agree with that fact, even though he wasn't particularly fond of the charm. "So, what happens to the secrets if you don't make it?" he asked.

"Bad things, Harry. But the question you _should_ be asking is, is there anything we can do now to protect the secrets." And with that, Albus sat back and waited patiently.

Rolling his eyes, Harry asked, "Is there anything we can do now to protect the secrets?"

"Excellent question, my boy," Albus replied, leaning forward again as he eagerly explained, "As a matter of fact, there is. We can change the Secret-Keeper."

That caught Harry by surprise. "That's possible, is it?"

"Indeed it is," Albus assured him, "though few realize this, and even fewer would know how to do so, I would imagine."

Harry felt his brain come to a screeching halt. "Wait a minute, that's what my parents did, isn't it? I mean, that's why you didn't know Peter was the Secret- Keeper, because when you were told the secret, Sirius was still the Keeper. And they never told you it was changed, so when my parents were betrayed, you believed it had to have been Sirius, no matter how hard it seemed to believe."

"Yes, I am afraid that is exactly what had to have happened." Albus was quiet for a moment, probably reliving his regret at not knowing about the change in time to save Sirius from Azkaban. "That is the greatest danger of changing the Secret-Keeper," he solemnly continued. "You see, those that have already been let in on the secret will continue to believe that the one that shared the secret is still the Keeper. Only those learning the secret going forward will know that the new Keeper's identity, unless, of course, the new Keeper divulges the secret to the rest. The only requirement to make such a change is that the new Secret-Keeper be someone who already knows the secret, but as it is the resigning Keeper that does the spell, this is normally not an issue. Also, the out-going Keeper will retain his knowledge, but he will no longer be able to divulge it to anyone other than the new Keeper."

Harry pushed thoughts of Sirius aside as he concentrated on the matter at hand. "OK, I think I understand all that. So, who do you want to make the new Secret- Keeper? Or, can't you tell me?"

Albus chuckled. "I certainly hope I can tell you, Harry. You are to be the new Secret-Keeper."

"Me?" Harry asked incredulously. "How does that possibly make any sense? Voldemort is trying to capture me, remember?"

Albus was trying to control his laughter as he explained, "Yes, but not to kill you, Harry. Keep in mind, Voldemort most definitely wants to keep you alive. And forgive me for saying so, but in his arrogance, he dismisses your abilities out of hand. He would never suspect that I would entrust such an important secret to a mere child so he would never think to question you about it. I doubt he would risk your life by torturing you much in any event. In fact, since you have a knack for escaping his plots, I suspect he would force the draught on you rather quickly. And in doing so, he would unwittingly protect the Order from himself. Rather ingenious, if I do say so myself.

Harry felt that his guardian was being a bit to cheerful as he discussed Harry's possible treatment at their enemy's hands. Nonetheless, he had to agree with Albus' assessment, but he couldn't stop himself from teasing, "I would have said crazy, but ingenious works too. But then, you tend to say that a lot about your plans."

"Do I?" Albus innocently asked, before winking and adding, "well, perhaps once in a while."

It took a bit more convincing, but eventually Harry agreed to become the Secret-Keeper, as Albus had known he would. The spell was easily cast, and Harry leaned back on his couch as he felt the knowledge invade his mind. It started as a light pressure at the base of his skull, similar to the tension headaches he would get when he studied too long. But along with the pressure came a cold sensation, like he had ice water instead of blood pumping through his brain. Harry blinked as he tried to focus on the images and thoughts that were invading his mind.

the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is located …  
'_OK, knew that already'_

Amos Diggory donated the money used to cover the cost of providing Wolfsbane Potion to the werewolves that Remus Lupin is bringing to the Order's side  
'_that I didn't know'_

Rubeus Hagrid has a second cousin in Germany that is collecting information on Death Eater activity for the Order, she's mistress to their Minister for Magic  
'_not sure I'm old enough to know that'_

Sirius Black used to pursue sexual relations with the sisters and wives of suspected supporters of Voldemort to gather information  
'_really didn't want to know that'_

And on it went, until the coldness began to ease, though the pressure remained. And he felt tired; not tired as in 'it's been a long day and I'm ready for bed', but tired as in 'I just took all of my O.W.L. written exams in one day and my brain has turned to mush'. He stopped thinking about the new information as he no longer had the energy for that seemingly simple task. His head ached, too. It rather reminded him of how he felt after his Occlumency lessons last year, combined with how he felt after Albus had applied the Celo Hic spell that hid certain memories from Voldemort. He could sum it up in three words; exhausted, headache, and confused.

Harry eventually became aware of the fact that Albus was kneeling in front of him, gently shaking his shoulders. He blinked to wet his dry eyes, bringing the old man into focus. "Is there something you need, or did you just feel like shaking me?"

Albus let his arms drop, but continued to watch Harry closely. "You have been staring at nothing for almost ten minutes, Harry. Tell me son, is there any particular piece of information you wish to ask about?"

Not wanting to expend the energy needed to concentrate, he flippantly answered, "What, like did Sirius really shag Karkaroff's sister? No thanks, I really don't want to know." But seeing the serious look on his guardian's face, Harry knew there must be something he was missing. He took a deep breath and slowly did a mental check of the 15-odd things he now knew, unable to figure out what he should be asking about, when suddenly it hit him. _'Snape!'_

He jumped from the couch with a speed that belied his fatigue. "It was Snape! He's the one that overheard the prophecy, and he told Voldemort. That's why my parents are dead – because of him!" He started pacing around the area, ignoring the slight dizziness lingering from the spell. "And he hates himself because of it." That statement had taken him so by surprise that he stopped in his tracks and turned back to Albus. "Really? He hates himself, blames himself for their deaths?"

Albus lifted his head to face the young man. "You know this to be true, Harry. You have the secrets now, and I assure you that every single one of them is complete truth. I have guarded that particular secret since before you were born. If you search your mind further, you will understand why."

Harry moved to stand behind a nearby chair – he was getting quite lightheaded anyway – and slumped against its back. He let his head fall forward as he closed his eyes and thought. In a matter of seconds, his eyes snapped back open and he raised his head, shaking it as he looked to his guardian. "He loved her," Harry softly said, as if saying it any louder would make it true. Only, he already knew it was true. "I don't understand. He loved her, and he wanted to save her. And he tried, I know he did."

Harry felt his legs give, and he slid to the floor. As Albus came and kneeled at his side, Harry fell onto him, tears springing to his eyes as he remembered again the night his parent's died. His father, shouting for Lily to take Harry and run; Lily, standing over him as the door burst open. Green light seeming to fill the room.

"Voldemort was going to let my mother live," he said in a soft voice, looking down at his hands as he continued to lean against Albus. "The bastard told me so himself, not that I really believed him. I couldn't understand why he would, her being a mudblood and all. But it makes sense now. He was going to do it as a favor to Snape. He probably saw it as a good way to enslave Snape – giving him the woman he loved. I wonder if Snape knew that he would pay a terrible price for that favor."

Harry fell silent again as he examined his thoughts. He felt as if his world had come to an abrupt stop as he fully realized the implications. Snape had tried to save his mother, _and only his mother_. Both Harry and James were fated to die that night, and Snape was willing to accept their deaths if it meant his love, Lily, would live. Harry couldn't decide how he felt about that. His mother would have hated Snape for it, for letting her son die so she could live, Harry was certain. And Snape had to have known that.

Albus gave the boy a few more minutes to collect his thoughts before moving. He stood slowly, pulling Harry with him, and continuing to support his weight for a time. When he felt Harry steady himself on his own feet, Albus lightened his grip but didn't let go. Instead, he pulled the boy into a hug before finally releasing him.

Looking at his watch, Albus cleared his voice and said, "My apologies, Harry, but we have run over. If you feel you need more time, I will gladly stay here with you and discuss this further, but if you feel fulfilled for now, I would very much like to get going. As it is, I fear I shall be late to my own meeting."

Harry took a step back to better see his guardian, wiping his eyes as he nodded. "Overwhelmed is more like it. And still a bit woozy from the spell, I think. I'm not sure I can deal with this anymore tonight, but I would like to talk more about it later."

Agreeing to make time soon, Albus lead Harry out of the cottage and, sensing his boy was not in top form, Apparated the two of them to Hogsmeade. As an afterthought, he had Harry throw on his invisibility cloak, glad that they were in the shadows and therefore had arrived unseen. It would do no good if people saw him entering a pub with a student.

Inside the Hogs Head, Harry was quick to notice that instead of Abe, some scrawny kid, who reminded Harry of a good-looking Stan Shunpike, was tending the bar. Without greeting the lad, Albus made his way down a hall behind the bar, stopping to knock on a rickety door. Seconds later, Harry heard his Uncle Abe calling to them to enter.

Without waiting to be invited, Harry pulled off his cloak and dropped into the nearest chair. He still felt tired, still had a headache, was still a bit dizzy, and now he could add nauseous to the list. He dropped forward, cradling his head in his arms as he flopped onto the table in front of him. Moaning as he swallowed the bile rising in his throat, he came to the realization that magic that messed with the mind and life-altering revelations should never be mixed.

Off to the side, Harry could hear Albus and Uncle Abe discussing something, probably him, he thought. He turned his head to get a better view of the two. Albus had his back to Harry, but was pointing his way. Uncle Abe, who for some reason was dressed not in robes but in what appeared to be fuzzy pajamas, had his arms crossed and was slowly shaking his head.

That simple movement – turning his head – sent Harry's head spinning again. "I don't think I can make it," Harry practically moaned. "Do you really need me there tonight?"

Albus walked over and brushed his hand across Harry's forehead, much like a parent would do to a small child to check for a temperature. "It appears you are two of a kind tonight, Harry. Aberforth is feeling a bit under the weather himself, and will not be attending the meeting. Are you agreeable to remaining here whilst I tend to our business?"

"Course he is, Albus," Abe squawked. "Or did you think he wanted to hike up to that school of yours by all by himself? Maybe he could stop to pick flowers and sing songs to the children on his way. _Agreeable to remaining_, indeed!"

"There is no need to work yourself up, Aberforth," Albus responded in a tired voice. "I am aware that Harry is comfortable in your presence, and in no condition to travel on his own, I was merely being polite."

After the two exchanged a few more of their peculiar brand of pleasantries, Albus left Harry in his honorary Uncle's care, promising to return as quickly as possible. Harry suspected Albus was being overly optimistic, as this Order meeting had a long and controversial agenda. He was genuinely sorry that he would miss the debate before Albus named his successor, but was glad he would miss out on the shouting match his open attendance was sure to have caused.

Abe left him alone for a few minutes, seemingly busy adding wood to the fire. In Harry's opinion, it was taking Abe an awful long time, but he didn't say anything as he was content to sit at the table, his head still resting on his arms. The quiet was interrupted by a loud snap, which Harry barely had time to process before a tray was set on the table in front of him. Lifting his head, he found dinner for two – hot tea, a tureen of soup, and a plate of crackers – along with two little bottles on the tray. The house-elf handed Harry a note before disappearing with another snap, having never spoken.

Clearing his throat, he read aloud:

_I thought you could both use a light supper. Harry should take the potion in the green vial, it is an Invigoration Draught, and should help. I have also taken the liberty of sending a Scintillation Solution for Aberforth, which Poppy assures me will alleviate your symptoms._

_Albus_

Harry gratefully downed his potion, pleased to note that he felt better within moments. As he served what turned out to be chicken noodle soup to himself and Abe, he noticed the other man was holding his vial up to the light, twisting and turning it as if to test its contents.

"You can trust your own brother, you know." Harry stated, as he placed a bowl of the soup on the table and motioned to the empty chair across from his own.

"Trust, you say," Abe grumbled. "Is that what you did last year, when he told you to learn Occlumency? You _trusted_ him? Or your Fourth Year – did you _trust_ him to keep you safe during that tournament? How'd all that trusting work out for ya, sonny boy?" Abe would have continued, but Harry's shout cut him off.

"_STOP IT_! Just, stop," he shrieked, slamming his hands on the table for emphasis. He'd already worked though this, and while he still secretly had his moments of insecurity and resentment, he wasn't about to get into this argument with Uncle Abe. After all, these issues were between him and Albus. Sliding down into his chair, he sighed, saying, "look, I know you have your problems with your brother, and that neither of you want to tell me what they are. So, just leave me out of whatever argument you have with him." Harry picked up his empty green bottle, rolling it between his fingers. "My draught worked just fine, but if you don't want yours, don't take it. It's no skin off my nose. But don't get all mad at him, he's only trying to help."

Abe grunted, then broke the seal off his vial and swallowed the sparkling brew in one gulp. He then threw himself into his chair in a perfect imitation of Dudley after being told he couldn't go outside until he'd finished his homework, and began eating. They ate in silence, all the while Harry wondering what had happened to the jolly Uncle that told amusing stories.

Finally, Abe dropped his spoon into his empty bowl, which clattered loudly garnering Harry's attention. Abe twisted his chair around so he was facing the boy and crossed his arms, watching Harry as he sucked his noodles into his mouth. Beginning to get uncomfortable, Harry slurped in the last noodle and lowered his own spoon, and waiting for Abe to speak.

"Let me tell you about my dear brother, boy." Harry was taken back, both by Abe's harsh tone and by the hated name – boy – that Vernon used to use. "He's using you."

Harry shook his head, "you're wrong. He cares about me; we're a family now."

"Harry, boy, I really hope for your sake he does, but you'll have to pardon me if I don't believe it. I don't think you realize just how wronged you were last year. Tell me, if you had known that Who-Knows-What was trying to lure you to the ministry to fetch him a prophecy about the two of you, would you still have gone that night?"

It was a question that Harry had asked himself many times since last June, so he knew the answer. "No; at least I don't think so. Don't get me wrong, I would have done _something_. Maybe gone to Headquarters myself, or else to the Burrow to get Mr. Weasley. And I suppose if all of those failed, I might still have gone." He looked into the fire as he continued, "I wouldn't have been able to sit and do nothing. That's what it really came down to that night. I did know it could be a trap, Hermione was quite vocal in that, but I couldn't do _nothing_, because whether it was a trap or not, Sirius was still in danger – at least that's what I thought. See, nobody had bothered to tell me that Voldemort might send me a false vision; and I certainly never considered that a possibility. Besides, what possible reason could Voldemort have had to lure me to that one particular place? If he wanted to capture me, he could have grabbed me anywhere outside of Hogwarts."

Abe nodded his head once, having eventually gotten the answer he expected. "Exactly, but you weren't given enough information to make an informed decision. Just like you weren't told why you needed Occlumency, and so you didn't take it serious enough – no, don't make any excuses, the so-called adults that were making all your decisions conveniently forgot that teenagers don't do anything without being given a _good_ reason. A stupid mistake from professional educators and parents of teenagers, if you ask me. You weren't told the whys and hows, and so you walked right into his trap. You weren't given a better way to reach the Order in an emergency, and so you had to rely on a disloyal house elf. You trusted the adults around you, the ones who said they would take care of you, and instead they failed you."

Harry could only agree. He knew he had made mistakes as well, but he had also never gotten over the sting of being told 'no' when he had all but begged to know what was going on. "Yeah, even Sirius let me down. And that hurt more than the rest. I mean, he's the one that was always preaching to me about how it's alright to break the rules for a good cause, or even for a laugh, but he wouldn't go against the Headmaster and tell me what was going on. And since it was all about me, I really should have known." Oh, the hours he and Dr. Tony had spent discussing this very thing, but Harry was determined not to get bogged down in negative thoughts. "But, believe me, that's all in the past. We've learned from our mistakes."

Abe moved forward, close but not quite touching the boy. "Harry, lad, you've grown on me. I don't want to see you get hurt any worse. And my dear brother can hurt you, if you let him. You had your eyes opened last June, and I don't want to see you close them again."

Harry looked the man in the eye, a small smile playing on his face. "You don't have to worry, Uncle Abe," he said, using the name that he knew the man liked to hear, "I've got them quite open. I'd be mad not to, really."

"Then why are you trusting him blindly? Why are you just following him along like a puppy looking for some scraps?"

"Is that what it looks like to you?" Harry snorted. "Well, it's not like that. Look, I can't tell you what I know, but trust _me_ when I say that I do know what's going on, and it goes way beyond some stupid prophecy. I know why Voldemort wants me dead, I know what it's going to take to defeat him, and I know that I will be the one to do it – not because your brother is manipulating me into it, but because ... well, it just has to be me. Voldemort made it that way," he cryptically added.

Abe sat scrutinizing him for a moment. "Bloody Bugbear, he's rubbing off on you! You do realize you just told me a whole lot of nothing, don't you?"

Harry looked confused as he replayed what he had just said, before he began to laugh. "I'll take that as a complement. Now, are we alright?"

"You're sure he's told you everything?"

Harry took only a moment to think about what he was about to do. It seemed right, and he knew he could trust this Uncle. He grinned as he looked directly into those cynical eyes, and casually said, "the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is located at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, London, which just happens to be my house, by the way."

Abe stuttered, "But, but, only the Secret-Keeper can tell where Headquarters is."

Harry continued to look the man straight in the eye. "Exactly."

"By damn, he does trust you. Well, that changes everything." Abe hopped up from his chair and retrieved a dusty bottle. Dumping their tea onto the floor, he filled their cups with the amber liquid. Then he lifted his cup, said "cheers", and downed his in one gulp. Harry picked his cup up and took a sip. Yep, firewhisky, and the good stuff at that. Taking another sip, he wondered what it was about Dumbledore men that they were suddenly so willing to give him alcohol.

As Harry set aside his unfinished his cup, and Abe finished his second, Harry thought he heard a bleating noise. Looking behind him, he saw a goat entering the room from behind a curtain. "Say hello to Brian, Harry." The barmy man laughed as the origin of the name dawned on Harry. "Have I ever told you about the time the leader of all things good Albus Dumbledore tricked me into charming a goat to sing love songs?" Later, Harry would swear that Abe's eyes were twinkling as he told his tale.

****end chapter****

**Notes:** After much internal debate, I've decided to avoid the whole inconsistency that is 'what happens when the Secret-Keeper dies', by employing a typical Albus Dumbledore tactic – redirection. It also always bothered me why no one knew Sirius wasn't the Secret-Keeper, even though people did appear to know the secret.

'Brian' may seem cliché, but the bar is supposed to smell like goats, which to me implies that there's a goat there somewhere. And we knew Abe charmed a goat to do something.

Also, I've rewritten the Dumbledore family history (had to really, once Albus wasn't gay that whole 'in love with Grindelwald' thing had to go), so you don't really know the whole story. But we'll get into that more in the sequel. (Author smirks, hoping no one notices the plug for her next story.)


	34. A Slytherin Plan

OK: so I've used someone else's characters, but I changed it up a bit. You know, I've 'made it my own, dawg'. At least, that's what Randy Jackson would say, if he was reading this. (For those unfamiliar with Mr. Jackson, the phrase implies I've done something original with the characters, not that I actually own them. That would be silly.)

.

.

**34. A Slytherin Plan**

=parseltongue being spoken=

The day after his visit with Uncle Abe, Harry received a note from Albus – which he had found inside his marked transfiguration homework – letting him know that the Order meeting had gone as expected, and that Arthur Weasley had agreed to take command should Albus suddenly 'become unavailable'. Mr. Weasley had been confidentially told that should it come to pass, his first order of business had to be to speak with Harry _in secret_. He had also been informed of the importance of rescuing Harry, should the boy be taken, though not given a specific reason.

Harry was pleased to know that Albus had taken his advice to heart, and he was confident that Arthur Weasley was up to the task of leading the Order, should the need arise. After all, the man had raised the infamous Weasley twins and was married to Molly 'the ultimate momma bear' Weasley, so surely he could handle anything Voldemort could throw at him.

Harry spent the remaining days before the invasion alternating between nervous and determined. Nervous, because any number of things could go wrong; determined, because he was not going to let anything go wrong. It was a contradiction he wasn't willing to examine too closely. As the days continued to count down, there were times when Harry felt so overwhelmed by anxiety that he feared he was in the midst of a panic attack. Thankfully, this generally happened in the early morning hours, when he was safely hidden in his four-poster bed so there were no witnesses.

One such morning, as he struggled to control his breathing, he realized that what he was feeling was simply too strong to be solely his own emotion. With startling clarity, he realized that with the invasion just on the horizon, Voldemort must also be anxious, and that the monster's feelings were bleeding through and adding to his own. Come to think of it, that had probably been happening for a while, and he hadn't recognized it for what it was, since he and Voldemort were experiencing the same emotions. _'yuck!'_

Luckily, the next few days flew past quickly, and soon it was the day before the invasion. Harry had been excused from his regular Sunday morning training (as the Order was otherwise occupied today), so he relished the rare lie-in. After a late breakfast – or early lunch, depending on how you looked at it – he spent a lazy afternoon enjoying the outdoors with a group of Fifth and Sixth Year Gryffindors. Ron had even joined in, and for a while it felt like the carefree times of First Year. But as the sun sank in the sky, so did the illusion that today was just another day. The shadows slowly lengthened on the ground, and it was like he could feel time ticking away.

With that in mind, he grabbed Ginny and ducked behind some nearby bushes. The sound of Hermione calling their names brought the teens back to the present, and after making themselves presentable (not hard, it had only been half an hour), they rejoined their friends as the group made its way back to the castle. They arrived just as a large swarm of students were entering the Great Hall for dinner, and fell in step behind them. Grabbing seats at the Gryffindor table, Harry helped himself to whatever dishes were nearby as his mind was occupied with dreary thoughts of all that could go wrong, and what horrible fates could befall his friends. He ate his tasteless meal quietly, and when he wasn't imagining how things could go wrong, he was sneaking glances at Albus and Snape. Neither of them appeared the least bit concerned, and Harry found he envied their calm demeanors.

It was shortly after dinner that evening when Severus Snape retreated to his office, ostensibly to mark papers. But when Harry Potter stood outside the office door, and slithered his Extendable Ear underneath, he got the distinct impression that Snape was brooding. He hadn't expected to hear any sound except a quill scratching on parchment, so he was surprised when he heard Snape muttering. _'never took him as the type to talk to himself'_

"The old codger," that familiar voice intoned, "refusing to tell me what dunderhead dreamt up such an imbecilic plan. _Transfiguring me into a side table!_ As if that's going to save me from the Vow!" The speaking stopped, and Harry had to strain his ear to recognize the sound of liquid being poured, and a bottle being slammed back down. "That man is a fool, and why I've agreed to be pushed aside and do nothing – "

Harry pulled the Ear out, not wanting to intrude on the rest of the man's rant. It was, after all, a private moment. Harry was well aware of the fact that Snape's life was not guaranteed; the man could still die from not fulfilling his Vow. And Snape knew it, but had agreed to an admittedly hair-brained scheme in lieu of having to kill his mentor. Harry knew only too well that if Snape died, he would forever feel responsible because it would be his plan that had failed. A month ago it wouldn't have bothered him as much, but now he knew part of the man's story; how he had loved Harry's mother. Now, Harry wanted to save the man who had tried to save his mum. Granted, only his mum; but still, it was better than having done nothing. He liked to think she would be pleased that he was trying to save her once-friend.

Not wanting to cause a scene tonight, Harry softly stepped away from the door. Listening to his professor had reminded him that he wasn't looking forward to his meeting with Albus later tonight. It might be the last quiet time they spent together, _ever_. It must be something in the air tonight, making everyone so morose, he thought. He needed a place to himself. Looking around, he chose the empty room just down the hall. He slipped inside unseen, and locked the door so he wouldn't be disturbed.

Minutes after Harry had left the hallway, Draco Malfoy confidently approached Snape's office. He unconsciously smoothed his hair as he walked up to the door. Taking a calming breath, he forcefully pounded on the pitted wood. He allowed only a few seconds before loudly demanding admittance, pounding some more. Draco was, after all, quite arrogant in his treatment of Snape these days. Snape yanked the door open and began to berate whatever hapless student he found, when he noticed the identity of his intruder. He grabbed Draco by the arm and roughly pulled him into the office, all but throwing him into an empty chair.

"Come for help, Draco? A bit late in the game to realize you are in over your head, don't you think?" he sneered.

Matching the other's sneer, Draco said, "Actually, I'm right on time, _Sir_. My plan has come together just as I expected it would. There is only one final piece to put into place, for which I _humbly request_ your assistance." Any fool could hear the sarcasm in his voice, and of course Snape was no fool. He watched Snape carefully, but so far, the man had merely returned to his chair and leaned back, looking more bored than anything else. Wanting to get a reaction, he added, "Trust me, if I could pull this off without your assistance, I would, but this next step is delicate work. It requires two competent participants, which I'm sure you agree leaves out my more trustworthy classmates."

Snape silently regarded the boy in front of him. He knew through Dumbledore that an invasion was planned, but Draco couldn't know that he knew. For reasons unknown, the Dark Lord had decided not share that part of the plan with him. Looking down to his fingernails, he asked, "Oh, do tell Draco, in what way could you possibly require my assistance? Didn't you tell me that you had everything in order, and that I should keep my – now how did you phrase it? … _oh yes_ – my big, greasy nose to myself?"

Draco rolled his eyes, and tried his best to sound insincere as he said, "I'm terribly sorry about that, Sir. You don't really have a big nose, just a small face." He even smiled sweetly as he finished, enjoying the look on Snape's face as he worked the comment out for the insult it truly was.

Finally, Snape snapped. Leaning forward, he demanded, "Just tell me what it is you want, Draco. I have better things to do this evening than play mind games with a simpleton."

Deciding it was best not to push his luck, he straightened himself – Malfoy's have their pride, after all – and explained. "I need you to accompany me into the Chamber of Secrets. I require several drops of venom from that rotting basilisk down there, and I'll need your assistance in the harvesting." He secretly hoped that the man wouldn't examine this too closely, for it was a rather flimsy reason. Deciding to sidetrack the man before that could happen, he rushed to add, "Terrible shame the stupid snake didn't just bite Potter when it had the chance." He smirked at the thought. "Life would be much better if it had, don't you agree?"

"And just how, pray tell, do you know of the basilisk?" Snape inquired.

"Really, Snape, the whole school heard the story of Potty and his Weasel going into the Chamber to rescue his little girlfriend." He cringed, as if disgusted by the thought. "Besides, that dead girl is a bit of a gossip. I've caught her watching me in the Prefect's bathroom a time or two, and when she mentioned Saint Potter's name, it wasn't hard to get her to talk. She was only too glad to fill in some details, like where the entrance to a certain Chamber can be found."

Snape regarded the boy with a calculating look in his eyes. With a nod of his head, he came to a decision. Abruptly leaving his seat he came around to stand next to Draco, looking down at the boy. "Just one more question, Draco. How exactly do you plan to get _into_ the Chamber? Or did you plan to ask Potter to open the entrance for you? I'm sure he would agree to help such a close, personal friend."

The boy smirked, "Ha, good one Sir. And actually, Potter is going to help, he just doesn't know it." Reaching into his pouch, he pulled out a red-topped vial, containing a single black hair, and another with a thick, grayish brown, sludge-like liquid. "He really should be more careful where he combs his hair."

Snape grabbed the second vial from Draco's hand, and held the liquid up to the light, turning the vial so the liquid slid from end to end. He pulled the stopper off, and gathered a dab on his pinky, first sniffing, and then tasting the liquid. "Well, it certainly gives the appearance of Polyjuice Potion. But I was under the impression that you were rather unsuccessful in your previous attempts to brew this."

Snape's comment took him by surprise. He stuttered as he responded, "Yeah, well … money comes in handy at times."

"And you are certain that is really Potter's hair? It would do us no good if you were to transform into one of his adoring fans, or worse, that dim wit Longbottom."

"Absolutely. Got it from his comb in the Quidditch locker room myself." His amusement showed in his eyes as he added, "you should see what he and that girlfriend of his get up to in that locker room."

Choosing to ignore that comment, he tipped his head slightly. "Then perhaps I should commend you for a well-executed plan. There's just one little problem. Polyjuice Potion will make you look and sound like Potter, but that is all. It will not give you his abilities." Seeing the confused look on Draco's face, he sighed and explained, "It will not make you a parselmouth, you imbecile, any more than Greyback's hair would make you a werewolf."

Draco's face froze, the only indication of the boy's sudden panic. He covered by asking, in his most arrogant voice, "Are you so sure about that, Professor? Have you ever tried?"

"Of course I have not tried. I cannot even stand to be near the brat, why would I possibly want to become him."

"Well then," Draco said, grabbing the vial back and adding the hair, "bottoms up."

He braced himself, for he knew what to expect. In seconds, he felt himself changing, his skin bubbling as it melted into something different, and everything became fuzzy. Reaching into his pouch, he withdrew a pair of worn eye glasses, fumbling as he put them on. He looked around wide-eyed as everything came into focus. He slowly stood back up, and looked down at himself, a sneer back on his face. "Scrawny thing, isn't he. Wonder what Gi ... the Girl Weasel sees in him."

Snape raised an eyebrow, the near slip not unnoticed. "Perhaps it is his modesty, or maybe his much bigger bank vault," he smoothly commented, "or then again, maybe he's just hung like a dragon." His eyes narrowed as he looked down at the embarrassed boy in front of him. "Should you decide to determine if it is the latter, let me assure you right now, you will do so on your own time, and I most certainly do not want to know the results. Now, try to say something in Parseltongue."

Draco, or Harry as he now was, was stunned, but snapped out of it to look down at his Slytherin crest, and hissed _=for the record, he is=_

Snape gave him an appraising look, and for a moment he wondered if that had come out in English instead of Parseltongue. A few tense seconds later, Snape moved to grab a bag from his shelf, before turning back to 'Harry', wand drawn. Before he could react, Snape had sent his spell. Not feeling the sting of any hex, he looked down, only to notice that his robes now had the Gryffindor crest. He smiled, knowing he was the perfect picture of the Gryffindor Golden Boy.

"You'll have to live with the length. Do try not to trip and break your neck," Snape barked. Without another word, he left the office. Clearly, he expected the boy to follow, which he did at a respectful distance. To anyone they passed, it would look like any other time that Snape had led Harry to his doom, also known as detention.

Once they had reached the entry hall, Snape stepped back and motioned for the boy to take the lead. As he passed, Snape hissed, "I will follow at an acceptable distance. Do not lose me."

They snaked their way through the castle silently. In seemingly no time, the boy was standing in front of the broken sink, thankful that the Professor's presence had caused Myrtle to splash her way down her toilet. Hissing for the sink to open, he jumped down the tube, leaving his Professor no choice but to follow him down. At the bottom, he silently waited as the older man stood and dusted himself off. Snape looked around, taking in the shed skin, the multitude of bones, and the fancy opening in the rubble. The professor stared at the doorway, clearly perplexed. It was obviously far above the ability of a twelve year old wizard; but then, it had actually been created less than a year ago by the Headmaster himself, not that Snape would ever know that.

Laughing at his Professor as he walked through the doorway, he turned back and said, "Potter … I mean I … am just full of surprises, don't you think?" He continued to laugh as he walked away, leaving the Professor to inspect the doorway.

When he got to the vault-like door he hissed, _=open=,_ barely waiting for Snape to catch up as he entered the inner chamber. He moved toward the snake's carcass in a bored manner, and casually leaned on a nearby column as he waited for Snape to catch up. He heard the man walk past him and stop, gasping at the sight in front of him. It _had_ been a very large snake.

He waited patiently as Snape came back to himself and went into action. Snape circled the carcass slowly, occasionally stopping to touch the skin. He inspected the mouth, only to discover two empty holes. Looking back, he stated, "two of the fangs are missing. You wouldn't happen to know what happened to them, would you?"

Enjoying himself, the brat responded, "Why don't you check with scar-head. Maybe he kept them as a souvenir. Or maybe that barmy fool of a Headmaster has them." He moved away from the column, stepping closer to the carcass, as if to inspect it. "Doesn't seem possible he killed this thing, does it?" Looking at his Professor sideways, he added, "Maybe our Lord has underestimated him." Seeing no reaction, he took a chance and continued, "What do you think, Professor, does Potter have the power to … kill the Dark Lord?"

Snape gave the boy a penetrating look, wondering how he came so close to the wording of a prophecy that no Malfoy could ever have heard. It did him no good, for the boy was quick to avert his eyes. After a moment, the man responded, "You would do well to keep such questions to your self, Draco. The Dark Lord does not take kindly to those who question the boy's lack of deadness." He turned back to the snake, falling silent once more as he contemplated the best course of action.

Deciding it was time to speed things up, the student noiselessly moved behind his Professor, drew his wand, and thought _'Petrificus Totalus'._

Like most of the Sixth Year students, he hadn't had much luck with non-verbal spells, but this time, the spell erupted from his wand and sped toward its target. He watched in shock as Snape toppled over, nearly falling into the carcass. Allowing his glee to show on his face, he strutted over and with another flick of his wand, had the older man turned over and propped against the decaying snake.

He stood before Snape, casually holding his wand at his side, knowing the show was only getting started. He could tell by the eyes that, should his spell fail prematurely, Snape would tear him apart. As it was, Snape would be seeking revenge for this for years to come. The man was notorious for holding a grudge.

Realizing that he needed to get on with it, he straightened his back – Malfoy's don't slouch, at least not when they have the upper hand – and spoke with a voice so haughty it put Lucius to shame. "I would say I'm sorry about that, but I'm really not." The tone sounded wrong in Potter's voice.

He genuinely smiled; he would enjoy this. It was, after all, a classic – the monologue to the hapless victim. "I must say, I didn't expect to get you down here this easily. I had expected you to question my reason for needing you to come to the Chamber with me. Although, I suppose I should be thankful for your naiveté. You were so excited for the chance to get at this stinking carcass, that you didn't question my motives. Not very Slytherin of you, Professor."

He strolled around, careful to stay in Snape's line of sight, letting the silence build before stopping again, directly in front of the man. He stood still, twirling his wand as if he was bored.

"Shall I tell you why you are here? It's simple, really. I need to keep you out of my way." This is where he waited a moment for effect. "The Dark Lord trusted _me_ with this task, and when Dumbledummy dies, and he _will die_, I will be praised above all others, and my Father will be forgiven."

He strutted around some more, mostly to piss off his prisoner, who he knew was having trouble tracking him. And he spoke as he moved. "You don't get it, do you? I don't need your help in killing the muggle-loving fool. I've already succeeded! He's already dead, he just doesn't know it yet." He was so absorbed in his rant that he didn't notice Snape's face had paled, nor the slight fear in the other man's eyes.

"Shall I tell you how I did it?" he asked, coming to a stop about two feet in front of Snape's face. "You haven't asked nicely," he taunted, "but I suppose I can forgive that. It's actually kinda funny. You see, after lunch today, I used a bit of my Polyjuice to become _you_, of all people, and I _accidentally_ bumped into the old man, and I offered him a piece of candy. It was remarkably easy to get him to sample the sweets – they really are his weakness, aren't they?"

"The sweet, of course, was poisoned," he continued. "A little potion called Bauer's Friend. Ever heard of it? ... No? Well, I'm not surprised. It's an American invention, created by their government, though they of course claim it doesn't exist. They use it to get rid of those they call enemies of the state quietly. It kills exactly 24 hours after being ingested. The heart just stops beating. One bloody vial cost more than 7-years' tuition for Hogwarts, but it's worth every galleon."

He paced again, surreptitiously checking his watch. He only had about ten minutes before the Polyjuice would wear off. Turning back to Snape, he added the final insult, "So, I have every thing under control, but hey, thanks for offering your help. I'll try to remember to mention it to the Dark Lord sometime. Now, I'm going to leave you down here until everything is settled. Can't have you trying to steal my glory up there, can I? But don't worry, the spell will wear off in about another thirty minutes, or so I've heard. And when it's gone, you can go ahead and harvest from your little friend there to your heart's content. Consider it your consolation prize."

He turned and started walking back to the doorway. Before he left, he turned back one final time, making sure he was still in Snape's line of sight. "Now be a good little professor, and I promise I'll be back soon to let you out. Ta ta." And with a cheerful wave, he left the Chamber, hissing at the door to close behind him. Arriving back in the girl's bathroom, he started to clean himself up when he felt his body shudder in that hated but necessary way. When the sensation ended he looked at himself in the mirror, winking to his reflection as said, "mission accomplished."

-0000-

Harry found his way to Albus' office later than he had planned. He didn't want to run into any Professors, as it was nearing 11:00, but a quick glance at his map assured him that Albus was alone. He passed through the office and into their private rooms confident that his guardian, upon seeing the doors open and close seemingly of their own volition, would soon follow.

He was rewarded for his patience, for Albus joined him in the sitting room a mere two minutes later. As Albus made himself comfortable on his favorite chair Harry handed him a cup of tea, and Albus joked that he would have taken Harry in years ago if he'd known it meant fresh tea prepared to taste would be waiting for him every evening.

It was a lame joke meant to break the tension in the room, which unfortunately failed. Harry shifted in his seat several times as Albus calmly relaxed and tried to enjoy his tea. Both knew that by this time tomorrow their fragile family could be shattered, yet neither wanted to break the uneasy silence to voice their fears. It seemed that in this situation, Gryffindor courage was in short supply.

Finally, Harry's fidgeting got the better of him, causing him to dump his steaming tea into his lap. He jumped from his seat to escape the scalding liquid, knocking into the coffee table and making the entire tea service fall to the floor. Several of the antique pieces shattering on impact. As he stood helplessly staring at the broken pieces – his scalded skin and soaked clothes forgotten – Albus drew his wand and made the pieces fly back together. Harry watched, transfixed, as they rose into the air and softly landing back on the table. One more casual flick of Albus' wand had Harry's clothes dry and stain-free, the skin underneath no longer hot.

Without a sound, Harry slowly turned from the restored tea set to his own clothes, then back to look at his guardian, who was now fishing something out of his pocket. Albus held his hand out and offered, "Lemon drop, Harry?"

Harry couldn't help it. He started to laugh. Quietly at first, but soon the noise was bubbling out, the happy sound bringing a smile to Albus' face. After the laughter had run its course, Harry felt lighter than he had in days. He caught his guardian's eye and blurted out, "I do love you, you know." Seeing the surprise on his guardian's face, he added, "You've been a better parent to me than I ever thought I deserved. I wanted to make sure you knew that, in case things … you know … go south tomorrow. I … I don't want it to have gone unsaid."

Albus recovered from his shock and jumped up, grabbing Harry in a big hug as he whispered his own love for this boy – this son of his. The older man pulled away before the moment could get too awkward, and he moved to a cabinet only to return with a fine bottle of goblin wine. Transfiguring two of the tea cups into ornate wine goblets, he poured them each a small sampling. Handing one to Harry, he raised his own, saying "to family, Harry."

Harry raised his own glass and replied, "to _our_ family", and then he took a long sip from his glass. "That slimy snake doesn't stand a chance against us," he added with conviction, before taking another sip. Albus bowed his head in agreement as he too took another sip. The tension finally broken, the two settled back into their seats, wine in hand, and spent some peaceful time just talking, much as they had last summer when they had first come together. By the time Harry made his way to Gryffindor tower at half past midnight, he was at peace with the upcoming day, and was confident he would sleep well.

****end chapter****

**Notes:** Sorry for the sappy ending, but if you were worried that either your father-figure and/or yourself would be dead (or worse) in 24 hours, wouldn't you get a bit sappy, too?

Bauer's Friend – my contacts all insist such a potion does not exist, but then, they would say that, wouldn't they? Rumor has it, it was named after CTU agent Jack Bauer, who does what it takes to keep America safe.


	35. The Ferret’s Folly

"What did that say? One the first page, what did that say? Did that say that I don't own Harry Potter? It did? Oh, I am so disappointed." *

.

.

35. **The Ferret's Folly**

The twenty-sixth of May began like any other Monday, with students rising in the early morning to prepare for another day of classes. But while other students worried about pop-quizzes and unfinished homework, Harry was worried about Draco Malfoy. Granted, they knew the basics of his plan, and had appropriate defenses in place, but things could still go wrong. And as he himself had pointed out, at Hogwarts things usually _did_ go wrong. Harry followed his friends down for breakfast, hoping that his attempt to look nonchalant wasn't as transparent as theirs. If Malfoy, or any of the other Death Eater children for that matter, were to suspect that the Order knew what was coming, everything would fall apart.

Once they'd arrived, he took a seat affording him a view of the entire Hall; Ginny a comforting presence at his side. The group ate in near-silence. Only Hermione was really talking, and from what little he actually listened to, even she was distracted. Why else would she be rambling on about Hag uprisings?

Toward the end of the meal, just before most students would be leaving the hall, Albus stood up. The students fell silent, wondering what was going on this time. Having everyone's attention, he explained that Professor Snape was not feeling well, and his classes were therefore canceled for at least today. He then retook his seat, discreetly ignoring the cheers and clapping scattered throughout the hall.

Harry caught his guardian's eye and gave him a slight nod. It seemed nobody was going to question the Professor's disappearance, which meant they hadn't tipped their hand to Malfoy and his cohorts. Scanning the rest of the room, Harry made sure he wasn't being observed, and then covertly cast the Muffliato charm. Leaning in, he asked his friends if they all knew their parts. Hermione reminded Harry that the DA had been told months ago that if their coins suddenly turned ice-cold, it meant trouble. She, Neville and Ron were confident that the DA would do their part in protecting the younger students should things go awry today. Unfortunately, they had never been able to determine the exact time of the invasion, but knowing how Voldemort liked to operate, it was a good guess it wouldn't be until evening.

Finally, Ginny nudged Harry and pointed to his watch to signify it was time to leave. They headed out of the Hall, and Ginny split from the rest of the group since her first class was in a different direction. As Harry and his fellow Sixth Years headed up the main staircase on their way to double Charms, Harry felt someone grab his robe from behind. He started to lose his balance, but was able to regain his footing in time to avoid a nasty fall. Turning around, wand in hand, he found himself facing a smirking Theodore Nott.

"Watch it Potter. You might fall and hurt yourself." So only Harry could hear, he added, "course, you're better at getting others hurt, aren't you?"

Harry heard his friends calling to him, but couldn't afford to turn away from Nott. His instincts were dead on for not a second later Nott whipped out his wand and shouted a curse. Harry deflected the curse with ease and immediately answered with one of his own. It was a harmless spell, comparatively speaking, but it was good enough to cause Nott to drop his wand. Having your legs dance of their own accord will do that. Harry was taking no chances, and was summoning the lost wand when he heard their names shouted from below.

In seconds, Professor Sprout come up behind Nott, a disapproving look on her face. She ended the curse on Nott, and held her hand out for the Slytherin's wand, which Harry surrendered. Before dealing with the two boys, Sprout sternly reminded the other students that class was about to start. Harry glanced back and found that several Slytherins (except Malfoy, oddly enough) had blocked his classmates from coming to his aid. He signaled that he was alright, and his friends reluctantly left.

Professor Sprout, much like Professor Flitwick, was an honest and fair teacher. She would not excuse Harry's behavior, no matter what the provocation. She also would not accept Nott's claims of innocence – she had seen his deflected curse for herself. In addition to losing 20 points each, both boys were assigned detention at 8:30 that evening, helping to clean Greenhouse Two. As they were dismissed, Harry noticed the satisfied look on Nott's face. Obviously, he had been set up.

The rest of the morning passed without incident, unless you count what happened in Charms. Harry had been late getting to class, thanks to Nott's attack and Sprout's subsequent lecture. But news of the altercation hadn't reached Flitwick's ears, and Harry was held after class to be lectured on the importance of being on time. The lecture nearly made him late for his next class.

Then, on his way to lunch, McGonagall pulled him aside to question him about the detention, and Harry relayed the entire incident, including Nott's apparent satisfaction. Minerva awarded him twenty points for his honesty, giving him a knowing look as she sent him on his way. Harry again ate his meal mechanically, refraining from asking Hermione _again_ if everyone knew their parts. She would have probably started a lecture on trusting others, or maybe the rudeness of asking the same thing twice. Hermione could be quite testy when she was feeling stressed.

Leaving the hall, he allowed himself one quick glance to the Head table, just to assure himself that so far his family was safe. He was rewarded for his effort by a slight nod and a wink – which had happened so quickly, he was certain none of the other students had caught Headmaster's movement.

His afternoon class seemed to fly by despite – or maybe because of – his preoccupation with thoughts of tonight. Luckily it was Defense, and he knew he could slack a bit and still do well. He wanted to talk to his guardian about the detention, for he was sure that its sole purpose was to place him in an out-of-the way, unpopulated location for the invasion. But he didn't give in to his instincts; he trusted that Minerva had already informed Albus of their conversation. More importantly, he couldn't do anything that would tip off Malfoy. The young Death Eater had to believe that Harry was clueless, he reminded himself.

And so, like a naïve second-year just following the spiders, he nonchalantly made his way toward Greenhouse Two at quarter past eight. His only concession was his wand held tightly in his hand. Professor Sprout was already lecturing Nott on proper behavior in the halls when Harry arrived. Her lecture continued for another fifteen minutes, with still no end in sight, when Professors McGonagall and Trelawney entered. Standing straight and tall, arms crossed across her chest, Minerva was every bit as intimidating as Harry remembered her being in years past, and the contrast between her and the dazed looking Trelawney was almost laughable. She wasted no time in informing Nott that, as it was clearly unwise for he and Potter to be in the same room together, he was to go with Trelawney to assist Mister Filch in fumigating Trelawney' classroom. (The dear had had an unfortunate accident with her incense burner and a bottle of cooking sherry.)

Minerva's next move took Harry by surprise. She asked Sprout to forget about Harry for the evening, promising she would handle him herself. Trusting that the Deputy Headmistress had her reasons, Sprout excused herself to do some potting in another greenhouse. Minerva then smiled at Harry, putting him at ease, and told him to put on his old cloak and follow her. The request surprised him in as much as he didn't know she knew of the existence of said cloak, but he complied nonetheless.

She walked briskly through the castle, and Harry was hard pressed to keep up without losing hold of the cloak. When at last she stopped, he found himself looking into an empty room. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised that he was being hidden in what used to be Fluffy's room on the third floor. Given their plan for the night, it made sense; the room was no longer off limits, but students still tended to avoid the area. Bidding good luck to his professor as she left, Harry made himself comfortable. He knew the long wait was just starting.

-0-

While Harry had been politely listening to Professor Sprout's lecture, Draco Malfoy was entering the storage room that magically appeared whenever he needed it. Moving to the newly repaired Vanishing Cabinet, he ran his hand over its smooth wooden surface. It was surprising, really, how such a simple thing would bring about the downfall of the _great_ Albus Dumbledore. At precisely 8:35, he closed the doors and clicked the latch shut, then put his ear to the door to listen for the tell-tale sound. A smile crept across his face as he heard muffled voices. Stepping back, he opened the doors, allowing a squad of Death Eaters to enter the room. In all, eight figures came through – more than he had been expecting.

An unmasked man, Fenrir Greyback he recognized, stepped forward. "The Carrows," the man growled as he pointed to an ugly, mis-matched pair standing next to each other, "will be with you, _boy_, to see that yer task gets done. Stick with 'em and they'll get you out afterwards. Those two," he jerked his thumb toward a duo standing off to the side, "have a special job, and you needn't worry about them. You'll stay out of their way if ya know what's good fer ya. Me and the rest are just gonna have a bit of fun before we catch up with you all on the tower."

Draco suspected he knew what the task was; after all, he had been ordered to find out where Potter would be at 9:00, and then stay away from that area. Ignoring the werewolf, he turned to the designated duo and told them about Potter's detention. They nodded their understanding.

As the group started to move to the door, some putting their masks on as they went, Greyback loudly reminded Bellatrix that she had best stick to the plan and keep her wand off the Dark Lord's new toy. Draco tried to send his aunt a questioning look, but she was ignoring him. Instead, she and her husband were discussing which curses to use on any blood traitors they came across. Someone cleared their throat loudly, and the boy knew it was time to fulfill his pledge to his Lord.

Draco took the lead by creeping out of the room, a line of Death Eaters following behind. Only six of the adults had made it into the corridor when the door to the room suddenly slammed shut, locking and bolting itself closed. At the same moment, there were shouts from both ends of the corridor, and curses began flying. But Draco had actually been prepared, and in a flash he pulled a handful of Instant Darkness Powder from his robe and tossed it into the air. The corridor was instantly plunged in a thick darkness, blinding both sides and slowing the fight. Caring only for himself, Draco pressed his body against the nearby wall and pulled his Hand of Glory from his robe, charming the candle held within its fingers to life. Watching to avoid people he escaped the area unseen.

Once safely around the corner, he stopped to catch his breath and brush off his robes. Listening to the fighting he'd left behind, he took stock of the situation. Clearly, Dumbledore's Order had been expecting something. His mind drifted back to his aunt's continued insistence that Snape couldn't be trusted, and he wondered if Snape was a spy after all. But really, it was just as likely that Saint Potter had figured it out. He had an annoying tendency to wreck the Dark Lord's best laid plans. Draco could only hope that they hadn't discovered the complete plan. He tuned out the sounds of fighting behind him as he took off for the Astronomy Tower, intending to go ahead with his task.

He made his way to the base of the Tower without running into anyone, not even a ghost, which left him a bit unsettled. Even the portraits had been oddly quiet. Looking up the twisting, dimly light stairway, he paused and considered waiting for the others, but decided against it. After all, he only needed to cast the Dark Mark, which would bring Dumbledore running to investigate; surely he could do that. As his foot touched the first step he heard a deep gong. The castle seemed to vibrate with the tone, and as it faded away McGonagall's voice echoed down the halls, calling all students to their Common Rooms.

Determined to continue on he climbed the spiral stairs, mentally practicing the incantation as he went. It was as he was repeating 'morsmordre' for about the tenth time that he realized he hadn't reached the top yet. Strange, he didn't remember the stairs being this long. After about twenty more steps, he was sure something was wrong. He paused and looked back, but he couldn't see anything other than empty treads winding out of sight. Growing more uncomfortable by the moment, he quickened his pace, climbing the steps two or three at a time. Finally, after a remarkably long time, he spied the door. As he got to the landing, he stopped for the briefest of moments to consider what he was about to do – but no, he had to do this. Grasping the doorknob, and twisting it perhaps bit harder than was necessary, he shoved the door open and entered _… the Headmaster's office?_

"Do come in, Mister Malfoy," invited the overly cheerful Headmaster. Draco saw that he was leaning comfortably in his chair behind his desk as if he hadn't a care in the world. "I was just about to have some of these scrumptious chocolate biscuits, and have far more than I could consume myself. Won't you join me?"

Dumbledore gestured to an empty seat in front of his desk, and Draco stumbled absentmindedly into the chair. Sitting innocently at the edge of the desk, in front of the very seat he was now occupying, was a steaming cup of tea, as if the Headmaster had been expecting a guest. He was struck by the absurd thought that the old goat knew everything, and had somehow redirected the very stairs of the castle to do his bidding. It occurred to him then that perhaps there _was_ a reason people said the Dark Lord feared this man. Sitting back, Draco clutched his wand tightly as he waited for the man to make his move.

-0-

As the fighting in the corridor went on, it became apparent that neither side could see through the darkness. Bill Weasley could sense others near him, but had no way of knowing if they were friend or foe. He whistled once, and trusted that the other Order members would follow his signal and retreat to the ends of the corridor. He backed out of the darkness, bumping into another body. Turning, he found himself looking into the wild eyes of Fenrir Greyback.

As he faced off with the wolfish (though thankfully human) Greyback, he heard someone yell out the killing curse – stupid move in such darkness, he thought – followed by the distinct sound of a body hitting the ground. But he didn't have time to wonder who had been hit, because Greyback had quickly advanced on him and was squeezing his wand hand painfully. With a grunt, Bill lost his hold on his wand, and it clattered to the ground. Greyback used his free hand to grasp Bill by the throat; his dirty, claw-like nails biting into the sensitive skin. Bill's left hand flew up, scratching and pulling at the steely fingers as he desperately tried to free himself.

Greyback practically snarled as he threw Bill into the wall, watching with shameless delight as his victim crumpled to the floor. He bent over and pinned Bill to the floor with one hand; with his other he grabbed Bill's leg and sunk his nails through his pant leg and into his thigh. Cackling, he drew his hand down the man's leg, leaving painful, bleeding tears in his skin. Bill's brain was functioning just enough through the haze for him to think to reach for his wand.

His hand was still reaching when Greyback suddenly let go, and it took a second for Bill's mind to register what it had seen – the blur of another body charging into Greyback's. He retrieved his wand and twisted around to help his rescuer. Moody was wrestling the wolf-man, but he was at a disadvantage being older and slower than his opponent. Ignoring the pain in his leg, Bill moved to help the retired Auror as he silently prayed that the students had heeded the alarm and were all safe in their dorms. This was getting ugly fast.

-0-

Harry was bored. He didn't like hiding to begin with as it went against every fiber of his being, but to be hiding alone, with nothing to do and no one to talk to while the action was taking place around him was absolute torture. Not 'tied to a tombstone being hit with Cruciatus' torture, but it did rank right up there with double Potions and Occlumency lessons on the same day. He'd already transfigured a broken bookshelf into a sturdy desk, then into a lopsided and lumpy bed, then a weird wooden birdbath, then back into a bookshelf. He'd charmed the bookshelf so it would toss a book at you, then tried but failed to charm it so it would run away when you would try to take a book. And finally, because he was really bored, he made it bleat like a goat when you touched it.

He'd heard the announcement sending the students immediately to their dorms, but nothing in all the time since then. Had Malfoy succeeded? Had the Death Eaters gotten around the Order members that were stationed at either end of the corridor? If he remembered correctly, there were only four protectors – Tonks, Remus, Moody, and one of the Weasley, he thought – against an unknown number of Death Eaters. Granted, several professors were to have joined the defense once the alarm had sounded, but it was those first few minutes that had him concerned.

Just as he was about to cast another charm on the poor bookshelf, he heard a noise outside the door. Cautiously he stepped into the shadows and pulled on his father's cloak, lest it be an unfriendly visitor. And it was.

"Hello Malfoy," Harry casually said to the first of the two newcomers as the cloak slipped from his head.

Draco didn't respond, though his eyes narrowed at the sight of his enemy. The Headmaster had warned him that Potter would be waiting for them, and that he was expected to 'make nice'. By contrast, Albus was his normal friendly self, and warmly greeted the boy, "Good evening Harry, I trust you have not been spotted?"

Potter responded, "Of course not, Professor. No one has come near the room all night. And I came straight here as soon as I left my detention, and I was under my cloak the whole time." He held the cloak up to show what he was referring to, not that Malfoy hadn't already caught on.

The blonde smirked, "What, you travel with an invisibility cloak at all times, Potter? Paranoid much?"

"Not exactly, Malfoy. It's not paranoia when someone really is after you."

Albus knew things could get out of hand in a hurry with these two, so he interrupted, "Gentlemen, as lovely as I'm sure this conversation is, I am equally certain we have better things to discuss. Harry, Mister Malfoy has graciously accepted my offer for sanctuary. In exchange for protecting him and his mother, he has agreed to forgo the task assigned by Lord Voldemort. He need only be escorted from the castle to the safe house. Do you think you can manage?"

"Sure, as long as he co-operates," Harry agreed, then turned to the Slytherin. "All right then, come over here Malfoy. Oh, don't give me that look, we need to get under the cloak together."

Draco snorted. "I am _not _getting under a cloak with you. I don't share my personal space with – "

"It's not a request, Malfoy," Harry cut in. He couldn't believe Malfoy was playing the spoiled pure-blood at a time like this. "Look, it's _your_ playmates we're hiding from, not mine. And since they want to kidnap me, I don't think they would be too pleased to find you seemingly helping me leave the castle. But really, if you don't mind being seen with me, then by all means, we can skip the cloak."

"I see your point," Draco conceded, moving closer to Harry. "Fine, we'll share the cloak, but nobody hears of this. Got it?"

"Like I would brag about being alone with _you_." Harry turned to the Headmaster, and in a much nicer voice asked, "any last minute instructions, Sir?"

"No, Harry. Just take him out through the passageway, and then Apparate him to Headquarters. You will both stay there until someone from the Order contacts you. By the way, you never did mention where your secret passageway will end. Are you certain you will be safe?"

Harry grinned, "Oh yeah, I don't think the Death Eaters are going to take a candy break anytime soon, so I imagine we'll be safe enough." At Albus' questioning look, he explained, "It comes out in Honeydukes."

Albus gasped. "I'm wounded, Harry. How could you have kept this from me? To think, I could have had full access to my favorite sweets all this year." Seeing Harry's broad smile, Albus was reassured that the boy was holding up to the pressure. Winking, he added, "Perhaps you can fetch me some Cockroach Clusters while you are there." He started to turn toward the door.

"Wait," Harry cried out, reaching out and grabbing the Headmaster by the arm. "Before you go, can you tell me … have things gone according to plan? Are my friends …" He made a strange wavy motion with his free hand as he stopped speaking, not willing to voice his fears.

Albus put his hand over Harry's, giving it a squeeze. "I believe the Death Eaters were delayed long enough for most of the students, your friends no doubt included, to make it to safety. The ghosts are on the lookout for stray students while several professors and Order members round up the troublemakers." With a twinkle, he added, "It was fortunate that a number of Aurors just happened to be having dinner at the Three Broomsticks this evening, and were able to respond to our call for help so promptly."

Taking his arm back from Harry, he said, "Well then, I have people to see and you two have places to be. Godspeed, gentlemen." Albus stepped away from Harry and left the room, being sure to leave the door wide open so no one passing by would question a door moving on its own.

-0-

Bellatrix looked back down the empty corridor she had come from, considering her options. If she remembered correctly, she was near the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. It had been tough getting away – that blasted Order had been waiting for them – but she had managed. It had been lucky that her husband Rodolphus and the axe-man Macnair had managed to break out of that junk room, otherwise Dumbledore's cronies might have captured them all. As it was, she was certain that some of her compatriots had indeed been captured. As the hall had finally cleared of the darkness, she'd seen Alecto Carrow, the dumpy cow, fall to Dumbledore's trained wolf. A tall red-head – one of the worthless Weasley's no doubt – had been kneeling over an unmoving Gibbon. She took pride in the fact that her Rodolphus was among those that had gotten away; like her, he would refuse to leave until _both_ tasks were completed. The Lestranges, after all, were among the most faithful and dedicated of the Death Eaters.

She disillusioned herself, delighting in the idea of taking the students by surprise, and settled in to wait. With luck, she could catch Potter as he made his way back to his common room and retake her position as the Dark Lord's most valued.

-0-

Harry knew that he and Draco didn't have far to travel. Two right-hand turns and the statue would be in sight. The problem was, they needed to travel the short distance in stealth mode, something he excelled at, but which apparently Malfoy had never heard of. Since leaving the safe room, the idiot hadn't shut up. Harry just hoped that there were no Death Eaters roaming the area; he was sure they could be heard.

"Potter!" the voice behind him softly hissed again, this time accompanied by a tug on his robe. _"Potter!"__  
_

Harry kept moving as he half-turned his head and snapped quietly over his shoulder, "for Merlin's sake, what?" His frustration was evident in his voice, not that he cared. The two boys were uncomfortably close as they moved in single-file under the cloak, and apparently Malfoy tended to sweat when he was nervous, making the already stale air under the cloak quite pungent. _'And I always thought that was Crabbe.'_

"You knew this was coming, didn't you," Malfoy accused. When Harry nodded, he continued, "It was Snape, wasn't it? Aunt Bella always said he was Dumbledore's lap dog."

Harry stopped short, and turned to fully face the boy. In his quietest voice, he said, "Actually, it was you that tipped us off. Or did you think we never noticed all your trips to the Room of Requirement?" When Draco started to argue, Harry covered the other boy's mouth with his hand. "Look, we can discuss this to your heart's content _after_ we leave the castle. Until then, let's try to keep quiet, shall we?" Without waiting for a response, Harry turned forward and slowly resumed his march toward their passageway to freedom, wiping his now slimy hand on his robes.

They had rounded the second corner, and the statue was in sight, when Draco started in again, whispering quite loudly, "You and Dumbledore seemed pretty cozy together back there." Harry didn't respond, so he tried again in a slightly louder voice. "The way he took your hand in his, one might think your relationship with the old man a bit close." Still no response. In an almost normal volume, he tried again, "So, do you like when he holds your hand, Scarhead?"

"That's disgusting, Malfoy," Harry finally hissed, as quietly as he could manage given his anger. "I would think that you would have more respect for the man that is saving your life. Now will you please _SHUT UP_?"

-0-

Professor Fortescue was anxious. Sure, they had captured two Death Eaters in the seventh floor corridor, and another had been killed, but five others (plus the Malfoy boy) had gotten away, and Moody was down. The students should be safe, as long as they followed their instructions and stayed in their dormitories, but it would be wishful thinking to believe that all would do so. He had, after all, heard tales of Potter and his friends' exploits.

He was sweeping through an empty area, making his way toward some stranded students near the library when he thought he heard a voice. He stopped and strained his ears. It was definitely a voice, but he still couldn't make out what was being said. The speaker was obviously trying to conceal himself. Fortescue crept to the corner and used a charm he knew from his days as an Auror to amplify sounds. The spell only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough for him to recognize the voice of Draco Malfoy. The boy was asking someone about holding hands, an odd topic during an invasion, but then he found Malfoy to be an odd boy. Being the professional that he was, he easily deduced that there were most likely two people under an invisibility cloak or spell, and they would be directly in front of him in seconds.

-0-

Harry hoped that Malfoy was done speaking. His insinuation was, well, sickening, and Harry had the churning stomach as proof. The very idea that the Headmaster would do anything of that nature to _any_ student was ludicrous. Harry longed to truly lay into the boy, but had curbed his anger. Unlike the Slytherin, Harry hadn't forgotten the very real danger around them. Sweeping the area with his eyes, he noticed that they were much closer to the statue than he'd realized. They only needed to make it past the next hallway, and they would be home free. Provided Malfoy would stay quiet.

"Potter!" he heard yet again, and Harry thought it sounded quite loud in the empty corridor. "Do you even know where we're going? There isn't anything down here."

Harry stopped moving and turned his head again to look at the idiot behind him. "Will you _please_ shu—"

"_Incarcerous! Stupefy!_" yelled a nearby voice.

Harry felt himself bound from the chest down to his knees, his left arm caught in the same trap as his legs. Practically at the same time, Malfoy slumped against him, and he knew the boy had been hit by the other spell. Luckily, he had been using his right hand – wand grasped within – to hold the cloak away from his face, so it was still free. In one fluid move he pointed the wand over his back as he incanted "Ennervate", then grasped the cloak as he brought his hand down. It was an awkward move, since part of the cloak was caught in the magical ropes, but he manged to free his head and arm.

As he was acting, the voice continued. "Accio wand!" Draco's dropped wand flew through the air. "Petrificus Totalus!"

Since Harry was already in motion, the body-freezing spell bypassed him to harmlessly hit the wall. Without taking careful aim, Harry pointed his wand in the general direction of the voice and shot off his own stunning spell, then dropped to the floor as he worked on undoing the charmed ropes.

"I wouldn't if I were you, Death Eater scum!" the voice growled as it came closer, and this time Harry recognized it.

"Professor no! It's me, Harry."

Fortescue paused, as he was about to cast another spell. "Harry you say? Well, we'll just see about that. Both of you, keep your hands still – and drop that wand, boy."

Not wanting to drop the wand and be vulnerable, but needing to earn his professor's trust, Harry gently placed his wand on the floor, and held his one free hand up. Some of the tactics he had learned from the training guide Tonks had given him kicked in. "Tell me what you want, Professor. How can I prove who I am?"

The newly awakened Malfoy, as had been his pattern all evening, couldn't keep his mouth shut. From his place against the wall, he croaked, "What the hell, Potter? You defy professors and the Headmistress herself to run off and fight dozens of Death Eaters last year, but one idiot tells you to put your wand down, and you decide to play nice?"

Harry turned his attention away from his confused teacher, and practically spat, "enough already, Malfoy. Your constant talking is what got us into this mess. One thing, you moron, you had to do one thing – _keep quiet_. But you couldn't even do that." At that moment, as he glared at the arrogant Death Eater-turned-traitor, Harry wished that he shared a different talent with basilisks.

Fortescue listened to the exchange, thinking that the boy on the floor might in fact be Harry Potter, and not some impostor made to look like him. The attitude between the two boys certainly gave credence to this, but he had to be sure. "You, on the floor, what did Potter give Dumbledore for Christmas?"

The question took Harry by surprise. He had given Albus several gifts, but how could Fortescue know that? He was starting to panic before remembering the one gift the staff would know about. He smiled a bit as he replied, "I gave the Headmaster a ball-point pen. I had heard him complain once that someone kept putting disappearing ink in the ink wells at staff meetings." He couldn't stop himself from continuing, "Most of the staff had their money on Snape, but I have reason to believe it was actually Professor Flitwick."

Malfoy snorted, "You gave the Headmaster a Christmas gift? No wonder the two of you seemed so close tonight. You really are his golden boy, aren't you? So of course he picked you to baby-sit his new pet Death Eater." Harry chose to let his death glare speak for him.

Across from them, Fortescue grinned. "Sorry Potter, seems you really are yourself. Here, let me undo those." The teacher flicked his wand, and Harry could move again as the ropes disappeared. He moved into a sitting position, and reached for his wand.

"ACCIO WAND," cried a new voice; and before Harry could stop it, his wand flew into the air and whizzed past Fortescue, who Harry could see was now standing still with a wand tip pushed into his skull.

Fortescue's wand was yanked from his hand as Macnair, Buckbeak's would-be executioner, came into view. "Flory, my old friend, the Dark Lord was disappointed when you turned down his invitation this past summer. He'll be most pleased when he hears how you helped us find Potter. Once the boy is in his hands, he may even allow you a quick death despite your earlier defiance."

Harry watched helplessly as the cruel man casually aimed his wand and said 'Reducto'; hitting the Professor in his left hip and sending bits of muscle and bone flying. The professor instantly fell to the ground, a puddle of blood forming beneath the shredded thing that had once been his hip and thigh. His body rocked as he groaned, obviously in excruciating pain.

A second Death Eater had wandered over to the boys, and he politely asked, "Tell me, Draco, why you are here with Potter?" Unlike Macnair, this man had been wearing his Death Eater mask, thus hiding his identity; but as he continued to speak to Malfoy he pulled it off with flourish. "Have you by chance accomplished your task already?"

"Nnn…no, Uncle Rodolphus," Draco stammered, clearly afraid. "I, er, haven't actually finished."

His uncle stepped closer and grabbed the blonde, roughly yanking him away from the wall. Macnair, meantime, had moved away from the wounded teacher, and had his wand trained on Harry, who himself was not moving.

Rodolphus put his hand on the blonde's shoulder, and turned his body so they were facing each other. "Understandable, dear boy. You were probably too busy groveling at the fool's boots to remember to pull your wand."

Draco noticeable paled. "No, I wouldn't do that. I just … haven't found him yet. I was, er, hoping that Potty there would be able to get me to him."

Rodolphus cocked his head to the side, as if in thought. "And I suppose that you had simply forgotten that you were explicitly told to stay away from the brat."

"NO! I mean, I didn't forget, but I figured I could just, you know, use him for this, and then …" Draco trailed off, not knowing how to finish.

The uncle looked down at the trembling nephew. "It's all right, Draco," he said in a soothing voice, as if calming a frightened toddler. "Truth be told, you were expected to fail." Rodolphus pulled Draco close to him, seeming to comfort the nervous boy. "But Draco, becoming Dumbledore's _pet Death Eater_ was never part of the plan." Draco's eyes opened wide in renewed fear as he realized that his uncle had heard the conversation, and knew that Draco had defected. He tried to deny the claim, but couldn't find his voice.

"It's all right, nephew dear. I'll take care of you." And without any warning, Rodolphus placed the tip of his wand over Draco's heart, and snarled "_Duro_".

Draco stood still for a millisecond, looking down at his chest in disbelief. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Not surprising, as his chest had turned to stone, the effect spreading across his torso before fading out. It didn't take long – it couldn't with his heart and lungs turned solid, unable to do their jobs – before Draco's eye's seemed to roll back into his head, and his body fell backwards. It hit the wall with the sound of stone hitting stone, and slumped over, landing on its side on the ground near Harry's feet.

Harry was frozen with shock as he stared at the dead body of his school-yard nemesis. In his mind, he could hear the echoing command to kill the spare. _'Odd, Cedric landed face-up.'_ It barely registered as he was yanked to his feet and practically drug between the two men. Macnair noticed Harry's gaze as he continued to stare at the body. "Don't worry yourself about him, boy. His fate was sealed the minute he bargained with Dumbledore instead of killin' him. But don't you worry, I'm sure you'll enjoy what the Dark Lord has in store for _you_."

Still in a daze, Harry didn't even register as he was hauled into the nearest classroom. It was the slamming of the door that brought him back to himself. Realizing the situation he started to struggle, but was really no match for the two large men. Macnair, being the stronger of the two, restrained him by pulling Harry's back tight against his own chest, his arms nearly crushing Harry as he wrapped them around the boy's torso. Lestrange had walked across the room and forced a window open, causing Harry to panic anew. They were several stories up; surely these morons didn't plan on jumping out the window? Macnair moved to follow his partner, bringing Harry with him. The boy tried to slow their progress by dragging his feet on the floor and hooking them on the furniture, but it did no good.

Macnair leaned down to Harry's ear and chuckled, "relax, little boy. We aren't going to toss you out." He tightened his hold, making it hard for Harry to breathe, and lifted the teen's body off the ground so he was wholly supported by the burly man. Harry concentrated on forcing air into his lungs, barely noticing the other Death Eater pull something from his pocket and toss it onto the floor. At first, it seemed to be a simple handkerchief, but as it unfolded again and again, it grew from the size of a note card to the size of a large rug, which is what it turned out to be. Once it was flat on the floor, Harry was carried onto it and forced to sit. Macnair continued to hold him tightly from behind, and it occurred to Harry that maybe this was by design, for there was no way he could take the deep breath necessary to scream loud enough to be heard. He immediately tried to kick the other man – Lestrange – who just laughed as he sat on Harry's legs, effectively ending the mini rebellion.

As the flying carpet lifted from the floor, Harry felt a wand tap his head, and he shuddered as he recognized the cold sensation of a disillusionment charm. The carpet drifted out the open window, and Harry's heart sank as he knew they wouldn't be seen, and that shouting for help was still impossible. As they cruised toward the forbidden forest Harry fleeting thought that this was perhaps the first time he hadn't enjoyed flying. The flight took less than ten minutes, and far too soon the motley group had landed on the soft ground of the forest. Harry knew he was almost out of time as he was again yanked to his feet and the disillusionment charm was lifted. He barely had time to register that he could breath deeply again as he was roughly swung around so each Death Eater held onto one of his arms. With their free hands, they grasped each other's arms forming a human ring. "Now just relax," Macnair taunted, "we're going to take you for a little trip. Ever side-along Apparate before, Potter?"

A split second before Harry sensed the now familiar feeling of Apparition, he desperately wished he could be going somewhere where he had a fighting chance; a destination where he wouldn't have to worry about innocent people being hurt. Images of the dead body of Draco Malfoy and the horribly-injured Professor invaded his mind, and he was determined that no more 'spares' would be harmed. His mind deliberately flitted to the one place where he didn't think of any one as innocent – Number 4 Privet Drive – just as he felt his body being sucked away.

****end chapter****

**NOTES:** Anyone confused as to why Albus didn't die from the poisoned candy at lunchtime might want to go re-read 'A Slytherin Plan'. The clues are there. I'll wait … Still confused? Hang in there, it's all explained in the end.

"Duro" is a canon spell that turns objects to stone. Doesn't that sound like something a Death Eater would use on a traitor?

*paraphrased for the literary class, The Monster at the End of This Book.


	36. Surrey to drop in unannounced

I can't think of anything witty right now. You'll have to fill in the funny part yourself, and laugh accordingly. Here goes … I {insert funny stuff here} Harry Potter. (_Mind out of the gutter, people_!)

.

.

**36. Surrey to drop in unannounced**

As Harry felt the world return to normal, he opened his eyes to the surprisingly familiar sight of his childhood home. Not taking the time to figure out how he had arrived in Surrey, he jerked his right arm away from the shocked Death Eater. He reached for his second wand (the one he had won from Rodolphus last summer, incidentally) and it appeared in his hand in a flash. With a quick upward swipe, he had silently stunned Macnair. He turned his wand toward his second captor, but Rodolphus was already moving. He shoved Harry to the ground, and trained his own wand on the boy, preparing to strike.

Luckily, Harry had been expecting a curse – really, what else would a Death Eater try – and he'd put up a hasty Shield Charm before he'd even hit the ground, confident that the Death Eater wouldn't be casting the Killing Curse. The shield was quickly followed by another spell, and Rodolphus had to dodge the combination of Harry's spell plus his own reflected curse, giving Harry enough time to jump back up.

Rodolphus aimed his wand behind Harry and summoned a garbage can, which flew into the unsuspecting boy. Harry fell to back to the ground, face-first this time. The force of the tumble knocked the breath out of the kid, and Rodolphus took the opportunity to revive his partner. By the time Harry began to stir, the two Death Eaters were prowling toward him.

As they stalked toward their dazed prey, the front door of Number 4 flew open. Vernon Dursley, having picked a most unfortunate time to investigate the noise on his front lawn, stared at the sight before him. He took in the strange clothes and the sticks the men were holding, and then registered the boy on his lawn. "Now see here," he bellowed, shaking his right fist in the air, "you freaks aren't supposed to be here. We won't take the boy back!"

Macnair, who was closest to Vernon, turned toward the intruder and casually hit him with the finger-removing jinx, leaving only the thumb and index finger on Vernon's right hand. Vernon panicked when he saw his hand, and began swearing loudly as he frantically shook the hand, perhaps in an attempt to make his finger re-appear.

As the two Death Eaters laughed at the Muggle's response – he was calling them names like 'godless freaks' and 'immoral abominations' even as he demanded they put his hand to rights – Harry gingerly climbed back to his feet. Before he had the chance to do anything, Macnair grew tired of the Muggle's crass accusations and cast the Cruciatus Curse at the obese man. Vernon's screams filling the night air.

Harry sprang into action, heading toward his uncle to help the man, but Rodolphus saw the movement and cast his own Cruciatus at Harry. That seemed to remind Macnair of the task at hand and he lifted his curse from Vernon, leaving the man quivering on the ground, where he promptly emptied his stomach. Forgetting the Muggle, both men concentrated on attacking the lone teen.

By sheer luck, Harry dodged the worst of the curses that were raining down on him, and began casting his own. Mostly he used attack curses he had learned in his training, ones that were designed to debilitate the opponent, but he mixed in the occasional disarming spell. For a few moments Harry had the upper hand, his offensive having taken the Death Eaters by surprise, when a new sound caught the attention of all three combatants.

From the house next door, an elderly gentleman Harry had always thought of as kindly had come out to see what the yelling was about. Macnair turned toward the man, and as nonchalantly as one might say 'hello', he said "Avada Kedavra". The man's lifeless body fell over, and Harry knew if he looked, he would see an expression of surprise on the face.

Incensed at the loss of an innocent life – a man whose only crime was honest curiosity – Harry turned his wand on the assassin. He shouted "Tysonius" as he dove behind his uncle's car, and watched through the vehicle's windows as his curse hit it's mark and Macnair was thrown several feet to the ground, out cold.

While Rodolphus tried to wake his cohort, Harry inched forward and reached around the front of the car. Remembering a trick Remus had taught him, he animated the large tree in the front yard, causing it to behave similar to the Whomping Willow. The tree lunged for the human trespassing in its space, missing the man but snaring his robes. As Rodolphus was forced to turn his full attention to freeing himself, Harry sprinted to Vernon, who was still lying on his side several yards from the front porch. Checking the man quickly, he decided Vernon was only winded and weak, but not otherwise injured, not counting the missing fingers. Harry pulled the large man to his feet – not an easy feat, but then Harry had magic on his side – and moved back toward the front door, intent on getting the man back into his house.

As Harry had been working to lift his uncle to his feet, Rodolphus had finally thought to un-animate the tree and had wrenched his robes free. He stalked toward Harry and the fat man as those two began moving toward the door. They had almost made it – the doorway only an arm's length away– when Harry heard the Death Eater speak.

"I didn't think you cared about the Muggle, Potter," the man goaded. Harry was forced to slow his progress as he knew better than to turn his attention away from the still talking Death Eater. "Now that I know better, maybe I'll let you watch him die before we go to see my Lord."

As Rodolphus began casting the Killing Curse Harry heard the popping noise of Apparition, but he didn't have time to see if the new arrival was friend or enemy. _'for enemies!'_ Harry saw the green light speeding toward his uncle, and reacted on instinct. He quickly shoved his uncle, who flew into the door jam, knocking over and shattering the ceramic garden gnome that Petunia proudly displayed. The deadly curse missed Vernon by inches, but Harry barely noticed. He had already turned his wand toward Rodolphus, and with a forceful swish toward the hated enemy, he shouted "Sectumsempra". The spell erupted from Harry's wand and sped toward its target.

The Death Eater knew the curse was coming but hesitated for a moment, either from surprise or from fear, Harry didn't know. By the time he started to move, it was too late. The curse hit him below the waist, moving diagonally across his body and exiting near the ribcage. Rodolphus fell to his knees, wand forgotten as both hands clutched his bleeding abdomen. His gestures were for naught; he'd been sliced wide open, squishy objects Harry didn't want to identify popping through the gapping wound. The sight nearly made Harry vomit. It had only been seconds, but blood already coated the man's hands and legs and saturated the ground below him. _'People can't lose that much blood and live.'_

Harry turned away from the gruesome sight as he fought to keep from sicking up. The newly arrived wizard – Harry's mind registered he was an Auror – was rapidly approaching the fallen Death Eater. The newcomer was shouting something to Harry in a familiar voice, but the words never registered in his mind. He just knew that the threat here had been neutralized, and he needed to get back. With one last glance at a pale and trembling Vernon he summoned his holly wand and, without a word, Disapparated.

-0-

As Harry was fighting to save Vernon Dursley, Ginny Weasley was standing just inside the thick, slightly foreboding doors of the library. A flesh-colored string had snaked its way under the barricaded doors, and she was listening to the sounds outside their sanctuary. Turning away from the doors, she yelled across the room to her brother, "I think it's safe".

Ron was standing next to Madam Pince; not that the librarian was of any help. She was sitting in her chair, knotting her hands in her lap and whimpering softly. Definitely not a fighter, this one. She hadn't even thought to barricade the doors when the alarm had sounded. Although, that had turned out to be a blessing.

By design, Ron and Ginny had been roaming the halls together earlier that evening – appearing to anyone watching to be looking for Crookshanks. When the alarm had sounded, they had set off on their real task, which was to find and assist stranded students. They were rewarded with a group of Hufflepuff First Years that they found cowering in the Trophy Room. It was clear they couldn't stay there. The gleaming glass showcases might look impressive, but they could turn deadly in a fight if the glass splintered when hit by spells. Unfortunately, they were too many floors away from the Hufflepuff dormitories to think they could make it there safely. So instead, they had started going up, intending to take the firsties to their own common room.

On the Fourth floor, the group had run into two other DA members that had been patrolling: Dean Thomas and Ernie Macmillian. Those two had also adopted a group of stranded students; an odd assortment of two young Ravenclaws, the Hufflepuff chaser Cadwallader, and a small Slytherin girl that had tried to hide in a boy's restroom when the alarm sounded.

The four DA members had decided the closest safe place was the library, with its sturdy doors and many aisles and alcoves to hide in. They made it there with no trouble, but as they started to enter, a brutal-faced Death Eater stumbled into the hall. The man had obviously been on the receiving end of a fight, judging by the disheveled, torn robes and missing mask. He was also limping heavily, as if he'd broken his foot. The younger students were ushered into the thankfully easily-opened Library, and the older four made short work of incapacitating the lone Death Eater.

Afterwards, they had moved inside the library, taking their bound, disarmed and stunned prisoner with them. Ignoring the bewildered librarian – who Ron thought was more concerned about damage to her books than the students – they set about barricading the chamber and reassuring the youngsters. Ginny had then taken her place at the door, listening for more trouble or help. Her hopes were answered when she'd heard the approach of Professor Flitwick and a Ministry Auror outside the doors, and she'd let Ron know that help had arrived.

-0-

Soundlessly, Harry Potter appeared near Honeydukes and immediately raced toward the store. Judging by the crowd that had gathered on the street, word of the attack at the school must have reached the village. He hadn't actually taken the time to listen to any of the gossip, but the crowd had been looking toward the school, craning their necks as if they could see the action. Harry spared the castle one quick glance, and was relieved to find no Dark Mark hovering over it. _'he must still be alive!'_

It made him feel sick, that the villagers were behaving as if the attack were a spectator sport, but he ignored them as he continued on his way. He reached the wide-open front door of the candy shop and ran inside. The store was deserted; the careless clerk and any would-be patrons were no doubt part of the gawkers out in the street. Oh well, their thoughtlessness allowed him to make his way into the basement without being seen.

Safely inside the hidden passageway, he paused to take stock of the situation. He was scratched and bruised, had hit his head pretty hard, and somewhere along the way he thought he might have twisted his ankle. All in all, he considered himself well enough to fight if necessary. He knew he probably wasn't acting rationally, but he was worried about the situation in the castle. Steeling his resolve, he headed down the dark, dank passageway.

He sprinted the entire way, ignoring the pain in his ankle, and reached his destination in record time. Just before he entered the school, he took a second to prepare himself. Beyond this statue, he had left a dead classmate and a near-dead professor; and roaming the halls were an unknown number of Death Eaters. He would give anything for his map, but he had left it with Albus for the evening. He listened for the sounds of fighting, but heard nothing. Easing the hidden passage open, he cautiously looked into the area. Malfoy and Fortescue were gone; the blood wasn't. But at least the hallways were empty, allowing him to leave the passage and head toward the Headmaster's office.

-0-

The Dark Lord Voldemort sat waiting on this throne. It was his favorite place to sit; it gave him a regal appearance, and the hard wooden seat was charmed to stay warm and cushy. In his left hand he held the vial of Draught of Living Death that Snape had delivered two days ago. He had hoped to hear back from his invasion force by now, but he wasn't overly worried. He had made it clear that they should not return until both objectives had been accomplished: Dumbldore's death and Potter's abduction.

As he tipped the vial over, watching the draught slide to the other end, he speculated. Surely by now the arrogant fool's son had made his move, which most likely had ended in failure. He considered the Senior Malfoy, awaiting news of tonight's outcome in a room down the hall, and smiled. He was looking forward to breaking the news of his son's failure to the man. His incompetence could no longer be accepted, and his son would pay for both of their mistakes – either by the ministry for attempted murder, or by him, personally, for failing in his task. A sickening smile crept across his face as he considered making Senior do the deed himself. He spared only a moment to wonder about Snape's fate.

Tipping the vial again, he turned his mind to Potter. Or as he now thought of the boy, his 'little insurance policy'. He knew enough to guess that the boy was putting up a fight. He had only assigned two Death Eaters to capture the boy, Alecto and Amycus Carrow. Could the boy, with his unearthly luck, have bested them? No matter, for although the Carrows had been specifically sent to retrieve the boy, all of his faithful knew to grab him on sight. They were not to return until Potter was his. 'Stay all night if you have to', he had directed them. Potter _would not_ see another day of freedom.

He glanced at the ornate bed off to the side of the room, its glass encasement on the floor beside it. In a moment of inspiration, he had recalled the sickly-sweet story of Snow White from his childhood at that filthy Muggle orphanage. Potter was Muggle-raised, and was sure to have learned the tale as a child. The Dark Lord hoped the symbolism behind his resting place wouldn't be lost on the stupid boy. Like the princess of that story, little Harry was destined for an eternal sleep; but in this tale, there would be no reprieve by _love's first kiss_. Stupid Muggles and their misguided belief that love conquers all. It would be he, Lord Voldemort, that did the conquering!

Imagining Potter lying in perfect repose in his glass prison, displayed in the Great Hall of Hogwarts as proof to all of what happened to those that would defy him, he nearly laughed. Oh yes, Snow White's step-mother had certainly had the right idea when it came to dealing with troublesome children who refused to learn their place. Not that the wicked queen of that story had anything on him!

He relaxed into his chair, wishing Nagini were well enough to keep him company. Tipping the vial over again, he watched the thick draught slide down the inside of the glass, imagining it was instead sliding down a certain teen's throat.

-0-

Unaware of how many Death Eaters were still roaming the school, Harry crept along slowly, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. He knew what he should have done. He should have gone to Headquarters, like he was originally supposed to. Well, Albus was just going to have to forgive him, but no way was he going there now. Blame his 'saving people thing', but he would not leave this castle until he knew Albus, Ginny, and the others were all safe. A quiet voice in the back of his mind told him he also needed to tell Albus about his trip to Surrey, but he easily shushed it.

Harry didn't have his invisibility cloak – it had been left in the corridor where he'd been captured, but was missing now – but he barely needed it. Like Fred and George before him, he'd memorized every hidden passage and knew every trick staircase. He used that knowledge and moved silently, using shadows, furniture, and suits of armor to hide himself. He knew he was taking what could be described as the scenic route, but he chose to be cautious instead of quick. After all, he doubted his luck would hold if he was captured a second time.

As he made his way down a deserted corridor, he thought he heard something. Listening closely he recognized it to be a voice – an unfriendly and unwelcome female voice – taunting someone in a familiar baby-like manner. Following the sound, he realized he was headed for one of the corridors mostly used by the Ravenclaws. Harry crept to the juncture and cautiously took a peek around the corner. Spotting Bella's victim, he nearly gave himself away in his anger. He backed up, so as not to be seen, and tried to calm himself as he quickly formulated a plan. Going for help wasn't an option. Bella could be vicious, and Luna had already been at her mercy for heaven knew how long.

Harry knew he had to stop the Witch, and he would only get one chance. He silently rounded the corner, moving closer as he prepared his curse, but stopped short when he heard Bellatrix viciously screech, "_Sectumsempra_". Harry watched as the curse – the very curse he himself had used tonight – hit Luna in the shoulder, and she dropped to the ground screaming in pain. Enraged, Harry jabbed his wand at the hateful witch and cursed her. Bellatrix never heard the curse coming; she was too busy cackling at the hurt girl before her.

Harry was actually surprised at the words that left his mouth. He had planned to say 'Petrificus Totalus', putting the Full-Body Bind on her; but what came out instead was "Quasso Igum", that nearly-forgotten spell that had been used on him back in September – the one that broke a person's connection to their wand, making their spells all wonky. Bellatrix seemed to glow red for a second, which was the only indication that the spell had hit its target. It must have worked, though, because a moment later she tried to cast the Cruciatus Curse on Luna, but it only made the girl twitch a bit.

The bewildered witch looked at her wand, shaking it as if to clear an obstruction. Harry, still unseen behind her, was about to curse her again when three things happened simultaneously.

First; Luna, despite her pain, managed to cast a corporeal Patronus, which came barreling up the corridor.

Second; ahead of Harry, and behind where Luna was lying, Hermione and Neville entered the hall. They had their wands drawn as if they had heard the sounds and knew what they would find.

And third; from behind Harry, three bodies came tumbling into the corridor. One of them had fallen into him and pushed him into the wall, effectively hiding his presence from the dark-haired witch. The three continued their fight undisturbed, barely registering the others in the hall.

Luna's silvery-white hare charged Bellatrix, passing over her before slowly circling back, having been unable to find its prey. It was just enough of a distraction that Bella failed to notice the two students moving to help her victim. Hermione had immediately stooped down to tend Luna while Neville seemed to be standing guard, willing to face Bella himself if needed. Neither Hermione nor Neville paid much attention to the happenings at the opposite end of the hall, caught up as they were in their own drama.

It had only taken a few seconds for Bellatrix to determine the Patronus was no threat, and she turned her attention to the three students, seemingly deciding to leave the Order members to her fellow Death Eater. She had recognized Neville, having faced him a year ago at the Ministry, and she moved forward with an evil smile on her face as she began making nasty comments about his parents. Harry saw Neville hesitate for a moment and he desperately shouted "Don't just stand there!" to his friend, and he was relieved to hear Neville start giving back.

Harry himself was unable to do much, as the three new arrivals not only had him surrounded, but they were moving around so quickly he wasn't able to safely aim. Bill Weasley and Tonks were taking on a bulking, wild-haired man, using a mixture of magic and fists. It was an oddly physical fight; the three bodies dancing around, breaking apart any furniture and picture frames in their paths. The Death Eater wasn't wearing a mask, and as he passed by Harry could plainly see he was enjoying the fight, as he was smiling open-mouthed, revealing his unusually pointy teeth.

He was also intent to beat the other two at any cost, and it showed in his fighting. He was sending curses without care; because of this, most missed harming people by inches if not feet. At one point, he moved dangerously close to Harry, and as he spotted the boy, he suddenly changed direction and sprung toward him. Harry tried to react, but misjudged and his spell missed. With a wild laugh, the man viciously kicked his left kneecap. Harry dropped to the ground as he felt his knee shatter.

Bill Weasley had been unable to stop it, but he immediately jumped between Harry and the grey-haired man, switching from offensive to defensive spells in a heartbeat. Harry was relieved to note that while Bill was favoring a heavily-bandaged leg, he otherwise seemed unharmed.

The man, whom Bella was calling Fenrir – _'that's Greyback!'_ – continued to fire off spells, apparently at anything that moved. At least he was smart enough to remember that Harry was not to be killed, as he had stopped using the Killing Curse as soon as he'd recognized the boy. Looking down at the injured teen, the beast couldn't help but taunt the boy. "Don't worry yerself about that knee. Walkin' ain't exactly in your future." He couldn't wait for a response though; Bill was surprisingly vicious in his fighting, and Greyback needed to turn his full attention back to the red head.

Meanwhile, Tonks had somehow ended toward in the middle of the corridor, and was trying to fight both the male Death Eater and her aunt. Her actions were somewhat hampered, lest a stray spell hit one of the students. But as Harry went down, she seemed to abandon that strategy and instead made her way to him.

For his part, Harry had ignored Greyback's jeer; he'd heard enough Death Eater boasting to know better than to let it get to him. Besides, from his place on the floor Harry had little doubt that the Order would triumph. He knew that Bellatrix's spells wouldn't work right for her, and he said as much to Tonks as she ducked down to hastily check on him. Tonks nodded her understanding, then stood and shouted to Hermione and Neville to 'stop that bitch from getting away' while she and Bill redoubled their efforts to take down Greyback.

The fight lasted a few more minutes, but as Harry had fervently hoped, the Order was victorious. Greyback was the first to fall, but not to magic. While Tonks garnered his attention, which wasn't hard because he was busy snidely promising to come find her the next full moon, Bill got behind him and walloped him in the head with a broken table leg.

Bellatrix had still been trying to curse everyone in sight, but as had been happening ever since Harry's spell, she couldn't get anything right. The Stunner she had sent toward Hermione, for instance, merely hit the girl like a Stinging Hex, thought Hermione did fall backwards as she tried to shake off the pain. Lestrange was subdued shortly after Greyback went down when several curses hit her seemingly at the same time: Tonk's 'Stupefy', Bill's 'Incarcerous', and from his place on the floor, Harry's own 'Expelliarmus'. At the other end of the hall, Harry could see that Neville had also cast something at the witch, although he had been unable to identify either the spell or its effect. Bella's bound, unconscious body hit the ground with a satisfying 'thunk'.

Bill reached down and helped Harry to his feet, a difficult task considering his own leg injury, which was bleeding through its make-shift bandage. Picking up the broken table leg he had clubbed the wolf-man with, Bill transfigured it into a crutch and offered it to Harry. Using the crutch to help his balance, Harry turned to check on his friends. Luna's wound had already stopped bleeding thanks to Hermione's quick spell-work, but it would still require Pomfrey's special care. Seeing the wound reminded Harry of the horror he had felt when he's heard Bellatrix screech out the spell. How could she have known a spell from _his_ Potions book? With a feeling of unease, he vowed to himself to discuss this further with his guardian.

He was brought from his musings by a light tap on his shoulder. Hermione had come to his good side, and was patiently waiting for him to move. He threw her a grateful look as he started to hobble his way down the hall. Bill walked on his other side, ready to help should he falter, but also keeping his wand at the ready should they encounter any more trouble. Tonks had moved forward to help Luna to the hospital wing, and Neville was walking with them, trying to lighten the mood by asking Luna silly questions about a recent Quibbler article. The two subdued Death Eaters had been left in a broom cupboard for the Aurors to retrieve.

Noticing Bill's wand at-the-ready, Harry jokingly thanked him for his 'constant vigilance'. Bill seriously replied that by his estimation, there were two Death Eaters unaccounted for. With a shudder, Harry recalled the fate of the two missing invaders. Without explaining, he told Bill that the other two weren't a threat. Bill looked at him with a doubtful look on his face, and Harry suspected he was about to question Harry on his statement. But Harry had a more immediate concern, and cut off Bill's question with one of his own. "What about the Headmaster, Bill?"

"Not to fear, Harry. As far as I know, nothing's happened to him. Last I heard, he was running things from the Hospital Wing, more for convenience than anything. There were injuries on our side, but I don't believe he was harmed."

The group passed the rest of their journey avoiding serious topics, instead joining Neville in questioning Luna about the Minister's secret plan to cross-breed owls with fwoopers, so that seemingly harmless post owls could be sent to attack unsuspecting enemies.

When they finally arrived at their destination, Harry's eyes scanned the room searching for his guardian. He found Albus sitting next to one of the hospital beds, and he appeared to be deep in conversation with its occupant. The man had definitely been busy tonight. His robes, which this morning had been a cheerful, vibrant blue, now looked dull beneath the grim and blood coating them. Watching, Harry saw Albus lean closer to the patient, as if to hear a secret being whispered, and Harry got a better look at his guardian. Exhaustion seemed to roll off the man, but also as he turned his head and locked eyes with Harry, there was relief. Harry had to stop himself from calling out to Albus in his relief that the man was in fact unharmed.

Harry's own exhaustion hit suddenly as the adrenaline rush faded away. He hobbled to the nearest bed, and plopped down, careful not to aggravate his wounded knee or now-swollen ankle. Once reasonably comfortable, he rested his head on the fluffy pillow and closed his eyes a moment. Now that he felt safe and his body began to relax, he noticed a dull ache in his head, and he decided to ask for a potion for it. He opened his eyes and sat up, but when he saw how busy Madam Pomfrey already was, he waved her off. He knew his own injuries weren't life-threatening, so he applied a few numbing charms to himself and settled back again to wait his turn.

Bill had moved over to Albus and spoken with him quietly, all the while gesturing in Harry's direction. Albus nodded his understanding, and with a last wistful glance at the bed's now sleeping occupant, he moved over to sit on the edge of Harry's bed. Bill moved to stand nearby, but Harry focused only on Albus. Sitting up, he described in the vaguest of terms how the two Death Eaters had attacked Malfoy, Fortescue and himself; how they had taken him from the castle; how he had been able to fight his way to freedom. When pressed for details, he would only say that the Death Eaters were surely in custody as Aurors had arrived moments before he himself had returned to the castle. Albus wasn't the only person who had more questions, but he was thankfully the one that put off further questioning until Harry had been healed.

Albus moved on, making the rounds of the various patients and visitors, and as Harry waited his turn with the nurse he listened to the stories of those around him. Bill Weasley had been hurt in the initial attack when Greyback had viciously slashed his thigh, but he had insisted it was only a superficial wound, and it certainly hadn't kept him from defending the castle. Pomfrey disagreed, and he was forced into a bed with the damaged leg elevated. Fortescue had been found too late; the Curse on the Defense Position had struck again, this time claiming a life. Across the room in the bed Albus had been sitting beside was Mad-Eye Moody, who had also been injured in that initial fray. He wasn't responding to treatment. Harry wondered why they hadn't called in the crisis team from St. Mungo's, like they had for his Boiling Blood, until he was able to piece together what was unspoken. Namely, that there was no treatment for Moody. He would likely not survive the night.

Minerva had appeared to report that all students were now accounted for. The majority of them had responded quickly to the order to return to their dormitories, and members of the DA had worked in teams to round up any stranded students. Harry smiled with pride as he heard her describe Ron and Ginny's actions.

Harry listened silently as the adults discussed the Death Eaters. He feared that if they realized he could hear them, they would stop talking. Of the original eight that had entered the castle, five were in custody here in the castle. One of those – someone named Carrow – had been seriously injured; she was in a bed in the far corner. The other four had been rounded up and were being held in the same tower room that Sirius had been held in back in Harry's Third Year. They would remain there until they could be transferred to Azkaban. One other, Gibbon he thought they'd called the man, had been killed during the fighting in the seventh floor corridor. No Order member had used the Killing Curse, so it had to have been one of his own side that had done the poor bastard in. Even if he hadn't been pretending not to listen, Harry wouldn't have told tell them his suspicion that there were actually two dead Death Eaters.

By the time Madam Pomfrey came to Harry's side, tutting on about things boys could do other than getting themselves hurt, he had heard all he wanted to hear and was glad for the excuse to tune out the rest of the discussion. She easily mended his broken knee cap, once again reminding Harry why he loved magic, and was checking over his other injuries when Albus finally came back to him.

"Alastor has left, Poppy," he solemnly spoke, and the nurse looked over his shoulder to the bed the retired Auror occupied. She swiftly finished with Harry and left him in Albus' care so she could make her way to the retired Auror's bed, not looking forward to what she would find.

Albus wasted no time in liberating his boy while the others were distracted, guiding him to their private rooms where he sat him down on the sofa. He took the seat next to Harry, and put his arm around him, pulling the boy close. They sat in silence for a time, each lost in their own thoughts. Without moving from his comfortable spot, Harry tiredly asked, "What about Professor Snape?"

"Never you mind, my boy," Albus answered quietly, himself not wanting to disrupt the peace of the moment. "I am certain we can trust Fawkes to retrieve our dear Potions Professor."

Finally, Harry straightened up, looking into the tired eyes of his guardian. "I know you probably want me to talk about it, but please ... not tonight. I'm tired, and I'm sore, and I just don't think I could make my mind function enough for a serious discussion."

Albus began to say something, but Harry put up his hand to forestall him. "I'm not trying to avoid it, I just can't do it right now … besides, I think we should have Dr. Tony be here for it. I'm not, er … desperate or thinking about … _you know_, but I just think maybe I should talk to him. I've seen a classmate die before, but not like this, it was so … _cruel_. At least Cedric was quick and painless, not that that makes it any better, really. And Cedric was facing up but Malfoy wasn't," he rambled on, no longer making sense to Albus. "And all the Professor's blood … it was … _bloody_ … and what happened on Privet Drive was just … not good, you know?"

It was obvious to Albus that Harry no longer knew what he was saying. He grabbed the goblet that was sitting next to the couch, and pressed it into the boy's hand, guiding it to his mouth. Harry drank the potion without question, and within moments had relaxed against Albus in a dreamless sleep. The tired old man gently lowered his child onto the sofa, covering him with a soft quilt. Straightening up, he watched the boy sleep for a moment, wondering what new horrors he had been put threw this night.

Sighing loudly as he realized that Harry had survived yet another attack where others would have no doubt failed, Albus turned and made his way back to his office. At least his boy would be unconscious and therefore untouchable when Voldemort learned that both his plans had failed, but that was small conciliation. He left his chamber door open a crack so he could keep an eye on his charge as he worked – not that Harry would be doing anything but sleeping for the next eight hours, but he felt better watching nonetheless. He dropped into his seat, welcoming the soft trill from Fawkes. The school had survived the invasion, but at what cost to his boy?

**** end chapter ****

**Notes:** Harry and company ended up in Surrey because Harry's determination to go somewhere other than to Voldemort was stronger then the Death Eaters' desire to please their master. And let's face it, the kid can do some pretty incredible things when pushed into a corner.

Bill Weasley will have a hideous scar, but no other side effects of his injury. He was hurt by Greyback's claw-like nails, not his teeth, so there was no 'contamination'.

A quick refresher for two spells – 'tysonius' (the Tyson Obdomio spell) is the one that knocks an opponent unconscious for about 30 minutes, and they can't be awakened in that time; 'quasso igum' was used on Harry way back on the train ride to school. All other spells are canon, and can be found on the HP Lexicon.

**Housekeeping** - as of 3/23/10, I've edited Chapter 13 as follows: In the immediate aftermath of Harry and Ginny being attacked at Diagon Alley, there was no mention of the fact that Snape was involved. In hind sight (and thanks to a reviewer for pointing it out), there should have been; Harry would have made it a point to rat the man out. I've added that discussion. It doesn't change anything plot-wise, but if you wondered about that, now you can go back and read it.


	37. Without Harry

Legal: don't own the Boy-Who-Lived, The Chosen One, or even the Devil's Spawn, but I think I own The Golden Twit. I'll let you know if anyone else comes forward to claim that one.

.

.

**37. Without Harry **

'_If only I had figured out the secret of the Horcruxes sooner. I could have destroyed them while he was still a child. I could have been ready when Tom's spirit came to Hogwarts – we could have destroyed Tom then, and he would have been free to leave the Dursley's house. The Weasley's would have welcomed him, or perhaps even the Granger's would have fostered him. How different his adolescence could have been, if only this tired old man had been able to piece together the puzzle faster.'_

The sound of a fist hitting his desk interrupted Albus' thoughts, and he tuned in to hear "—is why I must insist that you bring the boy up here _right now_!"

Without giving any indication that's he'd missed the largest part of the Minister's rant, Albus responded without missing a beat. "Now Rufus, be reasonable." He surreptitiously glanced at said boy, who was silently sleeping on the sofa. His eyes danced merrily at the irony that the boy Rufus was droning on about was just through that door; not that Rufus could see the open door, thanks to the notice-me-not charm he'd placed on it.

"I've been reasonable, Dumbledore, and it has gotten me nowhere," shouted the Minister. "I _will_ talk to the boy ... _today_."

Dumbledore sighed as he leaned back in his chair. It was two in the morning; he was worn out from yesterday's activities and he needed to rest, but instead he was stuck here dealing with this. On one hand, he admitted to himself it might be easier to let the Minister just talk with him once and for all so the man would leave them alone. But he knew that his boy was in no shape for that kind of discussion today. What's more, he didn't want to see him being used anymore, and that is what the Minister intended to do. Oh, he may hide his purpose behind some patriotic speech or sentimental plea, but what Scrimgeour really wanted was to look like he had been _involved_ in saving the school from an invasion of Death Eaters, rather than just a spectator. Boasting of private meetings with the Chosen One would certainly give that appearance.

His decision made, Albus began, "Rufus, you do not need to speak with Mister Potter, neither today nor any other day. Your current problems are the direct result of your own actions, and no publicity stunt – no matter how well played – is going to change that fact." Albus could see that the Minister was about to interrupt, and he gave him an over-the-glasses glare that seemed to freeze the man. "You overcompensated, Rufus. We went from Cornelius' unwillingness to do anything until it was almost too late, to your own over-zealous incarceration of anyone you could find to arrest. One wonders what Mister Potter's fate would be should he choose to turn down your most generous offer of becoming your spokesman."

Rufus straightened himself in his chair. "I do not think I like that insinuation, Dumbledore. I have no _plans_ for the boy, other than to offer him my assistance. And as Minister, I have a duty to make certain he is being well cared for." He narrowed his eyes as he added, "I am beginning to wonder if there is a reason you have kept him from me." Practiced Politian that he was, he paused a moment, steepling his fingers for effect. "Perhaps Fudge had it right after all? Perhaps the child is disturbed … or even dangerous. Just look at his actions to date."

Albus' cold eyes were the only sign of his anger as he calmly asked, "And which actions are those, Rufus?"

Scrimgeour counted with his finger, "Running away from his family, leaving school grounds, breaking into the Ministry, a habitual use of magic in front of Muggles, using spells no school boy should know." He leaned forward, as if confiding a great secret. "You didn't see the body, Dumbledore. Nearly cut in two, it was. You still want to claim that Mister Potter needs coddled? Tell that to the dead man's widow."

Despite the seriousness of the moment, Albus couldn't stop himself from outright laughing as he replied, "So melodramatic, Rufus. One wonders if you thought of that line yourself, or if perhaps one of your marvelous speech writers came up with it for you?" Albus Dumbledore was no fool, he knew he was being played. The thought rather amused him. "Allow me to remind you, as you seem to have forgotten, that your grieving widow is herself one of Voldemort's most devout followers."

The smile left his face as he continued, "Bellatrix Lestrange is a cold-hearted woman, who tortures and kills for no other reason than that she enjoys to do so. She and her deceased husband are both escaped convicts; criminals your Aurors are authorized to use Unforgivables upon on sight. _Your_ insinuation that he has done something wrong is, quite frankly, offensive." Albus' body seemed to grow as his anger built, and Scrimgeour involuntarily shrank into his chair as the man continued. "He defended his relatives from imminent death. Your own Auror has confirmed this to be the case, having personally witnessed the killing curse barely miss Vernon Dursley." Gone was the eccentric old man the public loved, and in his place was the Defeater of Grindelwald, who coolly stated as fact, "You will not pursue this issue any further, Rufus."

Realizing he had crossed into dangerous territory, the Minister back-peddled. "Of course, Dumbledore, there is nothing to pursue. It was … as you say … defense." The Minister turned his attention to leafing through the papers in his lap for a moment, choosing his next move carefully. "I bring it up merely to point out the concerns that the public have regarding the boy. I myself never believed the things Cornelius had to say about him. But the public? They have no idea what to believe anymore. I have simply sought audience with the child to help him, so that I can reassure the public that the Boy-Who-Lived is well." Rufus leaned forward, pointing his finger accusingly; for the old saying is true, the best defense _is_ a good offense. "And you have blocked me at every turn. You have sealed the records so I cannot even determine the identity, let alone the suitability, of the child's new guardian. And given that it was you, was it not, that placed the boy with his Muggle Aunt in the first place, your word alone is not good enough."

Instead of responding, Albus had a slow sip of his tea, and then shifted in his chair as if to make himself more comfortable. It was a tactic he liked to use when he wanted to reassert his control on a conversation. "That is your opinion, Rufus. But I assure you, speaking with him will get you nowhere. He does not want his guardian's identity known, and I'm afraid that when he makes up his mind about something, he will not be swayed." Albus took another long sip of his tea. "However, if what you really want is to help the boy, and not just use his goodwill to bolster your own slumping public opinion, I may be able to help you out. He is your Chosen One, after all. But you must be honest in your intent."

Rufus, being well verses in the political games, forced himself to smile. "His best interest is all I've ever been concerned with."

"Ah, good. I had so hoped that was your intent. You see, his best interests can be served by protecting those that he holds dearest to his heart. Those whom Lord Voldemort would most likely attack in his attempt to get to the young man. I do hope you have plenty of parchment and free time. I will be outlining my detailed plan, starting with the protection of the parents of his muggle-born friend, a Miss Hermione Granger."

Hours, and several reams of parchment later, Rufus left Hogwarts and headed to The Three Broomsticks. After that meeting, in which he was pretty sure he had agreed to have the Ministry arrange to hide the Granger family, increase funding for security at the dragon preserves, and turn over a list of all laws sponsored by Delores Umbridge, he needed a stiff drink before heading back to the Ministry. His last thought before slamming down the firewhisky was that Albus Dumbledore was a master of the game.

-0000-

At a small desk buried in the very back of the office for the International Magical Trading Standards Body, Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt sat hunched over several rolls of parchment. In the wake of the invasion the entire Department of Magical Law Enforcement was in a state of disarray. No one could believe that He Who Must Not Be Named had had the audacity to attack a school full of children. And not just any school, but _Hogwarts!_ People could not stop talking about it, not even long enough to do their jobs, which was why Kingsley had sought out this particular desk. Buried in a dark corner of a department that had stopped working half a day ago, he could finally work without interruption.

And what a crazy amount of work he had to do. First, he'd had to write up his report on the fight at Privet Drive. He'd played up how he had arrived just in time to see The Boy Who Lived save Dursley's sorry hide. His description of the kid's next move – using a curse Kingsley himself hadn't even recognized against the Death Eater scum – had been purposely vague. He was certain the boy hadn't meant to kill the man, and so he'd written the report to make it sound more like a spell gone awry than a dark curse.

It was the least he could do for his star pupil. After all, Kingsley himself had been one of his private tutors this year, and he'd come to like and respect the kid. Today - or rather yesterday, judging by the clock on the wall - the poor thing had killed a man. Unintentionally, to be sure, but the man was dead nonetheless. And really, it had been inevitable, given the amount of fights _that one_ had been and would be involved in. Yes, the killing had been justified, but a guilty conscious tended to have a hard time understanding that; something he knew only too well.

Kingsley had shoved that scroll aside and began the next report – a summary of the invasion. How he'd gotten stuck with that write-up was a mystery. Hell, he hadn't even been there for most of the action. But he was a ranking Auror, so his boss had asked him to personally write the official report. "Official"; the word had left a bad taste in his mouth. So he'd downed a glass or two of firewhisky to flush out the taste, and gotten to work.

He'd re-read his finished report twice to see if he'd missed anything. He'd covered how Professors and students had banded together to defend the school, aided by a small group of adults who just happened to be visiting at the time and several Aurors that had been dining at the Three Broomsticks. An astute person would surely understand that 'small group' meant members of the Order of the Phoenix, and 'dining' meant strategically stationed. To the average person, it would just seem a fortuitous coincidence.

Reading his own words, he couldn't help but think that it sounded like a solid victory for the good guys. After all, all the invaders had been either captured or killed, including the instigator Draco Malfoy. The deceased Malfoy had earned himself three full paragraphs in the report, describing how he had changed sides at some point during the battle. He'd been executed by his own uncle for that. Gibbons, a Death Eater about whom very little was known, had been struck down by the Killing Curse by one of his own. And of course, the male Lestrange had left mid-invasion, only to die on the front lawn of Number 4, Privet Drive. The others – Macnair, Rowle, both Carrows, and best of all Bellatrix Lestrange and Fenrir Greyback – had all been captured.

Alecto Carrow had been wounded, and therefore transferred to St. Mungo's, where she was to be kept under round-the-clock guard. Macnair, the slimy bastard that had insulated himself quite comfortably as one of Fudge's yes-men, had been captured in Surrey and immediately taken to Azkaban. Also safely transported to the prison was Rowle, the one whose height seemed to match his IQ. He was the one who'd been caught by four students defending the library. Honestly, what was the man doing attacking the library? Had he hoped to find The Boy Who Exceeds Expectations working on homework? Whatever had been going through his mind, it ended up being a good thing, for he had gotten himself captured. Then he'd loudly whined that he was in unbearable pain, and so the school nurse had doused him with a strong sleeping potion to shut him up, which is why he was in Azkaban now.

It was a well written report, excusing the few personal comments that thanks to the firewhisky had found their way into it. It should have closed the case.

But it hadn't, and that was what had him wanting to curse something into oblivion. Instead, he got to work on his third report, the one that answered the unasked question 'what about the rest of the captives?'. The answer to that bloody question was enough to make his blood boil. For while Rowle had been peacefully sleeping, his compatriots had staged a jail break. Oh yes, they had managed to capture three of You-Know-Who's best followers – Bellatrix Lestrange, Fenrir Greyback, and Amycus Carrow – but they hadn't been able to keep them. The three had managed to disappear from their make-shift prison – the very same tower room Sirius Black had once disappeared from. The irony hadn't been lost on the Auror.

How they had done it was anybody's guess. Albus had his money on bought-off guards, and while he was seldom mistaken in his guesses, Kingsley wasn't convinced. Bill Weasley had jokingly suggested a flock of Hippogriffs had flown them away, but anybody that hadn't known Sirius' story refused to take that suggestion seriously. Personally, Kingsley thought there were students involved. After all, they already knew that Nott Junior had purposely goaded Potter into earning a detention, seemingly for the sole purpose of setting him up for capture. Why couldn't he, or another of Malfoy's former cohorts, have been involved?

Of course, Kingsley was at least sober enough not to put his conjectures into the official report. Instead, he had to use phrases like 'leads of no significant value' and 'void of physical and magical evidence'. As he forced himself to write the words, he wondered how the kid was going to take the news. Snorting, he wondered why the Death Eaters would even want to return to their infamous leader, given their spectacular loss.

Tossing back another shot of whiskey, he decided to just finish the report as quickly as possible so he could head for bed. Or a shower. Or maybe a pub.

-0000-

Narcissa Malfoy watched silently and unseen from the doorway. She ignored the dark, unidentified lump near the Dark Lord's feet that was moaning softly and the shaky voice that was promising to do better. She was fixated on her sister, hardly believing what she was seeing; Bellatrix – strong, favored Bella – lying prostrate on the floor, her body twitching. Without warning, Bella was cursed again, and Narcissa decided she's seen enough. She retreated from her hiding place, careful to not make a sound and to stay in the shadows.

She hadn't wanted to believe when her husband had come to their bedroom and told her their son – _her son_ – was dead. At least, that's what the returning Death Eaters had claimed. No doubt, they had been trying to deflect the Dark Lord's anger at their own failures by pointing out poor Draco's. So she'd sought out the audience room, hoping to hear that Lucius had been misinformed or had somehow misunderstood. Instead, she'd heard the story being repeated with her own ears. Her Draco was dead.

As she put as much distance as possible between herself and her Lord, she wondered how her family had fallen to shambles. They were the faith. They believed in the blood. Yet, they were the ones paying the price. When he'd left her to get pissed in the library, Lucius had been rambling about it being Potter's fault; that Potter would pay. But he'd said that before, and the boy was still free and alive, wasn't he? And that was more than she could say for her own precious son. Even an Unbreakable Vow had not been able to help her little prince.

Perhaps … just perhaps … Potter had the right of it, and they had made a terrible mistake by throwing their lot in with the Dark Lord. Her sister was being tortured; her brother-in-law was missing; her husband was a laughing stock; and her son – her baby – was … _gone_. Why, oh why, hadn't Snape been able to save her Draco? And why had she ever let Lucius lead her down this foolish path?

-0000-

Severus Snape was many things, but drunk was never one of them. That is why, although he was holding a glass of Ogden's Best Gold Label Top Notch Volcanic Firewhisky (_guaranteed to set your toes on fire!_), he was not really drinking it. Over the years, he had found that a few swallows would make him just mellow enough to examine thoughts that he normally kept buried.

But ever since that bloody fireball Albus called a bird had found him in the Chamber and returned him to his rooms, those thoughts revolved around Potter. The-Brat-Who-Lived. The Chosen Idiot. Dumbledore's Pet. The Devil's Spawn. Well, he had more names for the trouble-maker than he had black robes, and that was a rather large number.

For sixteen years, Severus had been perfectly happy to hate the child. Seventeen, really, as he had hated the brat from the moment he knew of his existence, far before his actual birth. Hating him was easy – all one had to do was think of the little monster's father, which was beyond easy given he was a near-perfect replica of his sire. Or think of his mutt of a godfather. Or his pet werewolf. Or his propensity to find and/or cause the maximum amount of trouble, all while getting nothing more than at most a slap on the wrist, but most likely a pat on his head, from his greatest cheerleader, the grand Dumbledore himself. Really, how such a brilliant man could be taken in by such a conniving miscreant!

The problem was, Severus had come to realize that it might be in his own best interest to let go of the hatred. Oh, but he didn't want to. It cannot be said enough that he loved hating the boy.

Nonetheless, he could no longer ignore the metaphorical writing on the wall. For the seventh time this evening, he ran down his mental list:

1. The Dark Lord had stood again a mere babe, and had been reduced to a literal whisper of a man for thirteen years.

2. Quirrell had stood again an eleven-year-old child, and had his face burned off for the hassle, the rest of him dying from the effect.

3. Lockhart had stood against the boy on his foolish quest to slay Slytherin's beast, and he had lost his mind for his trouble.

4. Crouch the Junior had stood against the teen, and was ultimately left a mindless, soulless waste of skin and bone.

5. Umbridge has stood against the brat, and she was fed to the centaurs before being publicly denounced, and eventually labeled a criminal for her treatment of said boy.

6. The Minister for Magic himself, Fudge, had stood against the boy, and though at first it looked like he was going to succeed, eventually even he fell, being sacrificed to the alter of the Chosen One when he was found to have 'been too mean' to the brat.

And what did he learn from this list? That eventually, everyone paid a price for going against the boy. Even Rita Skeeter paid; her stories were rarely front page anymore. No, if he was honest with himself, which he always was, things did not bode well for him. After all, he had probably personally caused the boy more grief than all the others combined. Well, maybe not the Dark Lord, but he was definitely a close second.

Severus was well aware of his own crimes against the Boy Wonder. He had humiliated him in front of his would-be admirers on his very first day of school. He had convinced the then-Minister that Potter and his cohorts were 'confused' about Black's innocence. That one had been particularly satisfying. Then there was the letter of complaint he had sent to the school's Board of Governors – ah, but he probably didn't know about that one. Well, he certainly knew about the unearned failed grades, the undeserved detentions, and the ignored attacks by others. Granted, not all of that was unjustified. Sometimes, the boy would ruin his school work all on his own, and he really was disrespectful and unruly at the best of times. But as often as not, things were done at Severus' whims, and surely the brat knew that.

But so what? Why would it matter that he hated the boy with a passion only equaled by Albus Dumbledore's love of Sherbet Lemons? Apparently, it mattered for the afore mentioned reasons. And because of a stupid prophecy. Severus didn't know the full contents of the prophesy, but the part he did know, combined with the actions of _both_ his leaders, lead him to believe that the world was doomed, because That Brat was the one that was supposed to save them all.

Except he didn't really believe that anymore. Albus' short note, outlining the invasion and Four Eye's part in stopping it, seemed to fit the pattern he so wanted to ignore. But after further contemplation (not to mention a sip or two of his whiskey) and reviewing his list for the eighth time, he was lead to believe that, as unlikely as it seemed – and that was very, very unlikely – the Potter Spawn would ultimately triumph over the Dark Lord. And that would leave him in a bit of a spot, now wouldn't it?

Because therein lie his dilemma. The Boy Savior had no use for him; saw Severus as an enemy, someone who was working against him. And what happened to people who were against Potter? A quick review of said list, for the ninth time, answered that question nicely.

Downing the rest of his glass in one go, and kicking off his shoes as his toes started to smoke, he rose and strode to his fireplace. In one quick motion, the glass was thrown into the fireplace, where it shattered into thousands of pieces. Well, hundreds maybe. Damn, he'd had more to drink than he'd thought; he was being overdramatic in his own mind.

It all came down to this. If he wanted to live a peaceful existence after this war, he would have to play nice with The Golden Twit. Or move to America. Which really didn't sound that bad, except that whole coffee instead of tea thing. Although, he had it on good authority that they didn't wear robes much over there. Ugh. And so, like the man that had to cut off his own foot to escape the dragon, he made his choice. He would have to play nice. Except, he really hated that boy! Oh, and his annoying sidekicks too.

-0000-

Hermione found Ron sitting by himself in the library. A rather odd place for Ron to be as he would normally never dream of spending his free time there, which was exactly why that's where he was. The Gryffindor's (minus one) had already discussed the invasion amongst themselves before getting to sleep last night, but there was one more thing that she needed to address with one of her oldest friends, privately this time.

Using the Muffliato charm she'd learned from her other oldest friend, Hermione dropped into the chair across from Ron, waiting for him to look at her before starting.

"There's one thing I need to know," she began, in what Ron recognized as her no-nonsense voice. "How could you do that to them, Ron? He's supposed to be your best friend, and she's your sister."

That wasn't even close to what he'd been expecting, and his confusion was clear on his face as he asked, "Do what?"

"Oh, don't play stupid," Hermione huffed. "I know how Professor Flitwick found them in that classroom last month. I was there too when Dean told them about it. So tell me, what was the goal? To get them in so much trouble that your parents would forbid her to see him anymore?"

Ron shook his head, hoping his face wasn't as red as it felt. "There was no goal because I didn't do anything," he denied. For good measure, he added, "and if he hadn't been practically molesting my sister neither of them would have been in any trouble."

Hermione would have none of that. "Ron, just stop. Who else could have done it? Or what, you expect me to believe that Dean set them up? Because that is utterly ridiculous. I happen to know for a fact that Dean is quite upset that the room is now unusable. Will you please just tell me what is going on in that little mind of yours?"

Ron couldn't stop himself, he finally said what he'd been thinking since Christmas. "He shouldn't be wasting his time with her, alright? He needs to focus on getting ready to fight You-Know-Who. You heard that prophesy. You know as well as I do that he's got to be the one to do it. So what is he doing, huh? Is he spending his free time learning new spells? Or how about the DA … has he come to a single meeting, let alone teach again? No, he's off playing suck-face with my sister. People are getting killed out there, and he's letting her distract him. The guy I knew would have never let a girl get in the way. He would have been pounding on Dumbledore's door demanding extra lessons."

Hermione could hardly respond, she was so flabbergasted. "Wait, let me get this straight. You want to break up your best friend and your sister because she's distracting him?"

"Well, yeah," Ron replied more casually, thinking she understood him. Apparently, he had missed her tone. "I mean, before they got together, he was much more focused. Last year he helped form and run the DA, and remember Fourth Year, and all that reading and practicing the three of us did to get him through the tournament?"

Hermione suddenly reached across the table and cuffed Ron on the side of his head. "Ron, _you idiot_! Where do you think he's been going every Sunday morning? Wildlife walks with Hagrid?"

Ron shrugged, one hand reaching up to touch his stinging head. "He's here in the library working on Arithmancy, isn't he?"

Hermione shook her head, "No, Ronald. He's meeting Order members for extra training. And one of the reasons he plays Battleball is so he will be in shape physically. _And_ he worked directly with Professor Dumbledore to not only thwart Malfoy's little invasion plan but also save Professor Snape's life. But you're right, Ron. Ginny does distract him. And given everything that he has to deal with, don't you think he deserves a bit of a distraction?"

Ron was turning red again, only this time from anger. "Why didn't he tell me he was doing all that? I'm supposed to be his best friend!"

"Oh, that's rich. He's not treating _you_ right? And just how good of a friend have you been to him? Tell me Ron, when those nasty rumors were going around after Christmas, was he right? Were you behind them?"

Ron squirmed in his seat, looking down as he explained. "Not exactly. I just made one off-hand comment to Dean and Seamus about how they were acting on their date, and Seamus asked if I thought he was getting some, and I said no way was Ginny giving out, and then Dean said something about how he must be awful frustrated, and I said more like horny, then Dean added that either his hand was worn out or he was real desperate. But it was just the three of us, and I never meant for anyone else to hear it or repeat any of it."

As Hermione listened to the explanation, she could well imagine that Ron hadn't meant for the rumors to fly. But the idiot shouldn't have been talking about his best friend like that in the first place! She calmed herself; giving in to her frustration would just aggravate the problem. She decided to ignore the details, and get to the heart of the problem.

She reached her hand across the table, lightly touching Ron's arm. He flinched, expecting her to hit him again, but when she didn't he looked up, and she softly spoke. "Ron, you need to decide what you want. Are you still even with us? Because it doesn't seem like you are. You say Ginny distracts him, but where have you been this term? I know you tried to include Lavender in our group, but that's never going to work. She doesn't have what it takes to be best friends with the Chosen One. I mean, can you really imagine her taking on a troll or breaking into the Ministry? And truthfully, I don't think she's mature enough to handle the every day stuff … the rumors, the constantly shifting attitudes, the expectations. I think you already know that, and that's why you haven't been around much."

She watched his face to see that he understood what she was saying, or at least wasn't going to argue. With a sad sigh, she added, "We're falling apart Ron – the three of us. He would never tell you this. He wouldn't want to come between you and your girlfriend. But … it needs to be said, so I'll say it." She paused, and was glad to see that Ron was still paying attention, "He needs friends he knows he can rely on. He doesn't need someone who's only there half-way. I think he had enough of that during that awful tournament. Ever since Christmas, you just haven't been there, and he's pulling away from you because of it. You're going to have to decide between them. Is what you have with Lavender really worth what you're giving up?"

He shyly looked at her, and moved his arm so that his hand was touching hers. "And what about you?"

Hermione smiled sadly. "I'm his best friend. I always will be." She gave his hand a light squeeze before letting go and standing up. Before leaving, she added, "No matter what, I'll keep your secret. Ginny would never forgive you if she knew. I think he might, but he would never trust you the same again. Do yourself a favor, Ron. Go off somewhere and do some soul-searching." And with that, she left her beloved library, having never once opened a single book.

**** end chapter ****

**Notes:** OK, so Snape is going to 'play nice'. The problem is, I don't think his idea of nice is quite the same as everyone else's… And too bad for Ron that Hermione misunderstood his question right at the end.

So what does 'Without Harry' mean? Three things: First, it shows what's happening while Harry takes his eight-hour nap, so he isn't involved in any of the scenes. Second, it's a nasty (and somewhat childish) prank on the people who read all the chapter titles before they start reading a story. But last, and most importantly, if you didn't notice, the name 'Harry' doesn't appear anywhere in the body of the chapter. And that was not as easy to do as I thought it would be.


	38. One Short Year

Well, here we are. The end of the line, the tail end of our tale, the checkered flag in our race to read. And still, I don't own Harry Potter. Geez. Anyway, thanks so much for taking the time to read my first fanfic. Maybe I'll do this again sometime.

Hey, here's an idea. If you enjoyed this story, why not give me a quick review and let me know what you liked. It turns out, I like reviews. Who knew?

And to my 'regulars' – thanks for your encouragement.

.

.

**Chapter 38. One short year **

Harry had returned to the Gryffindor common room just after dinner. He'd had a peaceful nap on Albus' couch, followed by a much-appreciated trip to see his favorite Doctor. Albus stayed for the entire appointment so he would only have to give the gut-wrenching details of his capture and subsequent escape one time. Harry had been horrified to learn that the Death Eater he had cursed had died. Intellectually, he had already known – '_so much blood!'_ – but to hear it said aloud, that he had killed someone; well, let's just say it was a good thing he wasn't going to be shuffled off to suffer alone this summer. It had been agreed that he would go back to weekly appointments for the time being, but he considered that a small price to pay for his sanity.

He and Ginny had just settled onto a chair by the window, enjoying the slight breeze as he held her on his lap, when someone walked up behind them and asked, "So Harry, now that it's over, can you explain exactly how you saved Snape? I saw him at lunch, so I know whatever it was, it worked."

Harry recognized Neville's voice, but was startled when he looked up to see that Hermione and Ron had also arrived. As his friends pulled chairs around Ginny slid from his lap to the floor, leaning back on one of his legs. His right hand moved down to her shoulder as if touching her gave him support. Hermione explained that she had already told Ron the basics, but like everyone else, he wanted to hear the details.

Taking a deep breath, Harry began his tale by explaining that the plan had actually started the night before, when he'd went to visit the Professor in his office. Or should he say, Draco Malfoy had visited the Professor. Seeing several confused faced, he described how he had used Polyjuice Potion – which Hermione had _acquired_ for him – to turn himself into the blonde Slytherin and barge his way into Snape's office, demanding the man accompany him to the Chamber of Secrets. He admitted that he thought he had given himself away a few times; once right at the beginning when he'd reflexively reached up and tried to smooth his hair, and again when he'd almost called Ginny by name. Luckily Snape had missed the clues. (He didn't add about taunting the man with nearly quoting the prophecy; he was sure Hermione would not have approved, and Neville didn't even know the prophecy.) Everyone laughed at the idea of Harry, as Malfoy, using the potion to become Harry again. With a grin, Harry confessed he had rather enjoyed pretending to be himself, especially when Snape had compared Harry to Malfoy, with Harry coming out on top.

"Wait," Ron practically shouted, "so you were pretending to be Malfoy pretending to be you? That's mad! How did you possibly pull it off?" Ron, it appeared, was understandably in awe at the audacity of the plan. Listening to Hermione earlier, it had struck him that he should have been a part of the planning as he had been every other year. And listening now, he came to the sharp realization that Hermione had been right – that he hadn't really been there for his best friend since Christmas.

Ignorant of Ron's internal turmoil, Harry just shrugged as he replied, "Wasn't that hard, really, all I had to do was be an arrogant arse, put myself down a bit, and slander Dumbledore."

"You're forgetting the sneering and strutting," Hermione laughed, adding, "You guys should have seen him practice. It was so funny. Harry was really good at being Malfoy."

Neville cracked into a big grin at the image even as he asked, "I understand why you had to be Malfoy, but tell me again why he then had to be you?"

It was Ron who answered, "Oh, come on man! Even I've got that one figured out. Harry's the parselmouth, so _Harry_ had to open the chamber." He turned to Hermione, hoping to have impressed her, which it appeared he had, and continued, "but one thing I don't get – "

And Harry predictably cut in, "'just the one, Ron?"

"Shove it, you. I was asking Hermione" (and he turned his attention back to her) "why Polyjuice again? I didn't even know you could use it twice in one hour."

Hermione excitedly explained about the research she had done, and finding out that there was no antidote for Polyjuice, and so Harry's only option had been to use it twice. She started to tell about an eighteenth century witch who had once turned into no less than eight other people in one hour, when the others cut her off asking for more details of his time as Malfoy. It was when he got to the part about claiming to poison the Headmaster that Hermione stopped him. This had been one of the details he hadn't shared with anyone.

"Wait a minute. You told Professor Snape, the resident _potions master_, that you had used Bauer's Friend?" As Harry grinned and nodded, she had to continue, "Bauer's Friend … as in the super secret potion the Americans supposedly use to kill their enemies?" Again, Harry nodded, his grin even bigger this time. "But Harry … Bauer's Friend _doesn't exist_. It's a myth … an urban legend. How could Snape of all people fall for that?"

"You've got me, but I'm bloody well glad he did. Otherwise, the whole plan would have fallen apart, and he would have died."

Neville looked like he was still confused, and he wasn't the only one. "But why, Harry? That's the one thing I've never understood. How exactly did you save him, if he made an Unbreakable Vow to kill Dumbledore, but didn't do it." Neville visibly shuttered as he said this, clearly uncomfortable with vows of death. He was looking to Hermione for an answer, but she shook her head as she told him that it had been Harry who had figured out the key to saving the Professor.

Harry cleared his throat, hoping he could explain this clearly. "It all came down to the vow itself. He agreed that, quote … 'should it prove necessary, if it seems Draco will fail' … end quote, he would carry out the deed. The key words being_ if it seems he will fail_. You see, Snape only had to act if he thought Malfoy would fail. If he truly believed that Malfoy would succeed – in other words, if it _seemed__ to him_ that Malfoy would succeed – the Vow was satisfied without him doing a thing. It all depended on Snape's perception ... on what he believed. That's why I had to tell him I'd poisoned Dumbledore – so he would believe Draco had in fact succeeded. And by locking him in the Chamber, I assured that he couldn't know what was happening ... couldn't know that Dumbledore did not in fact die at lunchtime ... so he had no basis to change his opinion … no reason to believe Draco would fail. And trust me, he really did believe me, I saw it in his eyes."

Hermione, predictably, still had questions. "But why such an elaborate plan? And why the Chamber, Harry? Why not just turn him into that side table you kept talking about?"

"Mostly, because I was never convinced that would work. I mean, if it was that easy to get out of an Unbreakable Vow, wouldn't everyone know about it? And … well," Harry shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant as he added, "someone had suggested that Snape might find that dead basilisk useful for ingredients, so I figured, why not kill two birds with one stone. Besides … this was more fun," he added with a wicked grin.

After talking a bit more about Harry's grand performance, his friends excused themselves one by one, leaving just him and his girlfriend. Once the two were alone again, he let his happy façade crumble. Ginny climbed back onto his lap and wrapped her arms around her boyfriend, knowing he was in pain. She knew that he had watched as Draco Malfoy had been ruthlessly killed by his own uncle; that he himself had killed someone to save the life of his own uncle, a man that didn't even like him. The Ministry may be claiming it didn't know the identity of the wizard that fought two Death Eaters in Surrey, but she had known it was him. She also knew that he hadn't spent the entire day in the castle, that he'd taken a trip to see a 'friend'. She cuddled closer, and they spent the rest of the evening in silent comfort.

They were able to stay like that well into the night, as classes had been cancelled for the rest of the week. While relatively few students had been involved in any of the fight, and even fewer had been injured, the excitement of the invasion made teaching, let alone learning, near impossible. Oddly, very few students seemed to be affected by Draco Malfoy's death. Harry supposed it was because Malfoy, unlike Cedric Diggory, hadn't been well liked. And too, the rumor mill had been hard at work, so most knew that he had been somehow involved in the invasion. Theories on exactly how ranged from almost truthful to downright impossible. Harry was only really surprised by the Slytherins, who for the most part were as indifferent as the rest of the school. Perhaps because Malfoy had been killed as a known traitor to Voldemort? He decided he didn't care why; trying to sort out his own jumbled feelings regarding his short-lived ally was quite enough to deal with.

So, while Narcissa Malfoy quietly arranged for her son's burial, the Hogwarts students enjoyed their unexpected break by hanging out with friends and spending time outside. And Harry and his friends were no exception. There was, for instance, the impromptu tournament on Friday. What had started as a simple contest between Harry and Neville to see who could skip a stone the furthest across the lake had turned into a real competition when a large faction of the DA joined in. Surprisingly, Hannah Abbott had taken an early lead, although Neville was a close second. Harry had ducked out after the second round, preferring to sit back and cheer on his girlfriend, who was currently in third place. Ron wasn't faring well, but at least he had come along, and appeared to be having a good time. Lavender, Harry noticed, was nowhere in sight. Hermione and Terry Boot were also competing, but as a team, which had started an argument when someone suggested teams weren't allowed. For some reason, everyone had turned to Harry to have the final say, and he had declared it permissible, so long as they were touching somehow. He smirked as he caught Hermione's eye, noticing her blushing face.

Another popular pastime, though only in the Gryffindor common room, was tricking each other into eating Weasley candies. Fred and George had sent a large variety box to Harry in an attempt to cheer him up, and Ron had quickly come up with the plan – get as many people as possible to eat as many treats as possible. It didn't take long for Harry to figure out that his best friend and his girl friend were plotting a sneak attack. He decided to beat them to the punch, so to speak, and stood in the middle of the Common Room and voluntarily ate a Canary Cream. Moulting, he found, was a liberating experience; he couldn't remember when he'd felt so carefree when not on a broom. Now, if only he could trick Hermione into trying one.

By the next week it was back to classes, and back to studying as final exams (O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. included) would soon be upon them. Harry was caught by surprise when he'd been given an extra exam schedule. With the demands of preparing for the invasion and then its aftermath, he had nearly forgotten he was taking the Care of Magical Creatures N.E.W.T. McGonagall had asked him if he was certain he would be ready, and he had assured her he would be. In the last few months, he had all but memorized Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, and was confident he could pass the exam in his sleep. He saw very little of Ginny that week, wanting to give her plenty of study time for her O.W.L.s, but Ron was filling in some of his free time, sometimes with chess, but also just flying or goofing around. Ron confessed that he had broken up with Lavender, not going into much detail except to say that without her around he felt like his old self, which Harry was pleased to hear.

Harry was glad that his training sessions had been suspended for rest of the school year as he was able to spend those hours on some last-minute cramming for his one N.E.W.T. Finally, exam week had arrived, and as he headed to the Great Hall with the four Seventh Years that had taken Hagrid's N.E.W.T. class, he was confident he would pass. The other students gave him odd looks, one outright asking if he realized this was the N.E.W.T. exam, but he just nodded and quietly took a seat. The written exam was a breeze, and when he got outside to take the practical, he nearly laughed out loud. The entire thing consisted of greeting a hippogriff (_'nice to see you, Buckbeak'_), shaking hands with a particularly friendly merperson (Harry thought the merman recognized him), and identifying dragon breeds _by their pictures_, which were labeled in tiny print if you were smart enough to look.

It was a hectic week, as Harry had his regular exams as well, but he had something on his mind other than schoolwork that couldn't wait any longer. After dinner one evening, he and Ginny went to the owlery together so he could send off a message. Sure, he could have sent it via a house-elf, but he figured his owl would enjoy the work. When they entered, Hedwig swooped down to greet her boy so fast that Harry swore she had known he was coming. After greeting him with an affectionate nip on the ear, she settled on his shoulder and allowed the two to pet her feathers, standing proudly when Ginny called her a 'pretty girl'. After a few minutes she presented her leg, letting Harry know she was ready for business, and he attached the letter and watched as she flew off and made her way around the castle.

Knowing she wouldn't be long, Harry and Ginny opted to stay and wait for her return. They were enjoying a quick snog under his cloak when the owl reappeared, but she waited patiently on the windowsill (as if hesitant to interrupt) until they finally emerged. Ginny was the first to notice the owl's eyes upon them, and swore that she had known exactly where they were and what they were doing, much to Harry's protests.

Unrolling the reply, Harry let Ginny know that he had a meeting with the Headmaster in twenty minutes, so they best get a move on. He escorted her back to Gryffindor tower, kissing her hand like he'd read a gentleman was supposed to do, and headed for his meeting.

He arrived to find that Albus was seated in a chair near the fire, another chair positioned nearby and a tea service on the table between them. After the usual pleasantries and treats, Harry stood from his seat and drifted over to Fawkes. Stroking the fire bird, he was gifted with a few peaceful notes. After thanking the phoenix for the song, Harry turned to face the patiently waiting Albus.

"I need to know something, Sir." The formal address wasn't lost on Albus, who realized that this talk was going to be more serious than he had first expected. "That potion's book you gave me … the one with all the notes. I asked you about it once, and you just told me it was safe. But you didn't tell me whose book it was."

Albus nodded, saying he did indeed remember that discussion. He braced himself, knowing what Harry was about to ask; no, demand. How would he react to knowing it had been his most hated professor's notes that had been coaching him all school year? So deep was he in his own thoughts, he was certain he had heard Harry's question wrong, and had to ask him to repeat himself.

"I said, it was Tom Riddle's book, wasn't it?"

Albus paled. Did Harry really think … yes, it appeared he did. "I assure you, it most certainly was not Riddle's book. Why ever would you think such a think?"

"Mostly because of that spell – Sectumsempra. It's the same spell Bellatrix used on Luna, I heard her cast it myself. I think it's the spell she got me with back in Diagon Alley, as well. I might not have figured it out had I not made the mistake of using that spell myself. I got it from th-that book, and it was pretty clear to me that the original owner had made the spell up. So how did the Death Eaters know it, or any of the other spells in the book ... like that one that hangs people upside down? They couldn't have found them in the book; at least not after it came into your possession. So it had to have been in their possession first. And Tom Riddle seems the most likely candidate. That spell seems like something a young Riddle would have come up with. And then there's what's written inside – property of the half-blood prince. Riddle's a half-blood, and he certainly thinks he's some kind of Wizarding royalty."

Albus stood and moved over to Harry, reaching out and putting his hand on the boy's shoulder, turning him so they could see eye-to-eye. "I see. ... I must say, you certainly make a good argument. For the most part your logic is sound, as is your assessment of a young Tom Riddle. But Harry, I assure you, the book was never Riddle's. The person who created those spells was not connected to Voldemort, at least not then."

As Harry processed what he had heard, his disbelief revealed itself on his face and left him speechless.

Albus guided Harry back to his seat, settling himself as he began. "I confess, Harry, that I purposely gave you that book for several reasons. Certainly, I believed that the notations would help you in potions, which they most certainly have. And not just because they gave you hints to perfecting your projects. You have begun to understand why things are done, as opposed to simply what is done. This is a lesson that carries over into other aspects of your life, and I am glad to see you learning it. Also, I was aware of the spells written in the book, and I believed that you might find _some_ of them useful."

He paused for a moment, considering how to continue. "Perhaps I, like so many others, underestimated you," he confessed. "I knew all too well the destructive nature of that particular spell, but I did not think you would be able to cast it so … _forcefully_, shall we say? An absurd assumption on my part, given your extraordinary Patronus at the young age of thirteen. I consider what occurred in Surrey to be as much my fault as yours, for I encouraged you to use the book, even when you questioned it."

"No Seba," Harry asserted. "I didn't even know exactly what it would do, and I used it anyway. It was all my fault."

"And I thank you for saying so, but you will pardon me if I hold onto my guilt as tightly as you hold onto yours?" Seeing the slight smile on Harry's face, he continued, "But back to my reasons for giving you the book in the first place. Ultimately, I had hoped that you might come to respect its previous owner. Perhaps even understand him."

"Understand?" Harry repeated. "How could I? I don't even know who he is."

"Don't you, Harry?" Albus asked, employing his 'over the glasses' technique as he looked at the boy.

Harry turned to gaze out the window as he thought about this. A student who was clearly brilliant at potions. A teenager who created spells 'for enemies'. Spells that found their way into the hands of the Death Eaters. It had to be … "Professor Snape." Harry groaned, "and all year long, while I've been going on and on about what a horrible teacher he is, he's been the one I was actually learning from. He really was teaching me, he just didn't know it." Harry started to snicker as the truth of the situation sank in. "And he's been accusing me of cheating all year, but I haven't really. I've been following his instructions to the letter, he just didn't know he'd given them to me."

Harry carried on for several more minutes, to the point where Albus wondered if Dobby hadn't just slipped some of the Weasley twins' Giddy Goo into Harry's drink. The devoted house-elf was forever trying to help Harry in his own special way. Eventually the boy settled down, and the two of them were able to continue their discussion. Harry felt much lighter, knowing that he hadn't been 'taken in' by Voldemort again, and begrudgingly admitted that he did in fact have a new-found respect for his Professor. At least as far as his intellect was concerned; Harry privately felt Snape's people skills still needed work. The discussion eventually strayed to other, more pleasant topics until eventually Harry noticed the time, and excused himself to get back to his dormitory before curfew. Albus knew Harry really wanted to get back to his girlfriend, but he allowed the excuse to stand.

However, for all his desire to return to Ginny, Harry unknowingly meandered through the halls as he lost himself in thought. It had been a few days since his latest appointment with Dr. Tony. As much as he'd wanted to stop those appointments all together a month ago, he begrudgingly admitted they were still necessary. He couldn't afford to go all mental right now, and with Dr. Tony (and Albus) helping him face his demons head-on, he was doing alright.

If he was being totally honest, he would admit there were _some_ issues. Nothing serious; he wasn't going crazy like he had last summer. No feeling numb or wanting to feel pain. '_thank God' _ But he had noticed that at the strangest times, his mind would conjure up images of a fallen and bleeding Professor Fortescue, or the surprise on Malfoy's face when he could no longer breathe, and even Lestrange falling to his knees as he hopelessly clutched his bleeding body. At other times his stomach would feel so unsettled that he had trouble eating, a bit like last summer, only not as often or as severe. He had even vomited once, but that was probably only because of the graphic description someone had been giving of their father's infected boils, and not because said description had reminded him of the sight of Lestrange's blood oozing from his split body.

Also bothersome were the nightmares that he'd started having again. Not Voldemort-induced visions thankfully, and not every night, but he had seen twisted versions of Malfoy's death a few times. As if dealing with the contents of the dreams, and the lack of sleep they brought with them wasn't bad enough, the dreams themselves were cause for concern. He hadn't had a real, bona-fide nightmare since he'd started taking his sleeping pills. Clearly they were losing their effectiveness, and Harry feared it was only a matter of time before Voldemort started getting through.

He wondered if it had been a mistake not to mention these things to his guardian; but no, the man had so much on his plate already. And really, so did Harry. He was still trying to come to terms with the fact that he had seen his school-yard rival murdered and had himself killed a man – a bad man, yes, but a man nonetheless – all on the same night. Dr. Tony said it was normal for him to be calmly accepting of these events. Of course, he had used normal in the context of 'it's normal for some to experience a delayed response', implying that he fully expected Harry to crack at some point. He suspected his guardian did as well.

Blinking, he realized that he was now standing in front of a rather impatient painting. He's been so wrapped in his thoughts that he hadn't even noticed his arrival. As the Fat Lady tapped her foot in annoyance, Harry decided he had made the right choice in keeping quiet. He made a conscious decision to push these little annoyances aside to focus on his real problems. That decided, he politely gave the password and entered the common room.

-0000-

The day before school was to let out, Harry and Ginny visited their tower room one last time. Harry had once again channeled his 'inner-Marauder', and had convinced the kindly old wizard in the portrait down the hall to invite the Lady of the Lounge (as Ginny referred to her) to join a card game. She'd accepted, and the portrait was mercifully empty when they arrived.

Settling into their usual spots on the couch, Harry nervously took Ginny's hand, which immediately put Ginny on high-alert. Watching her boyfriend as he struggled to speak she reached out with her other hand and softly caressed his cheek. Her action gave him the strength he needed, and he grasped her hand more confidently as he began speaking.

"I love you Ginny … I really do. I like to think that some day we can have a little house with a couple of dogs and lots of kids – you know, the fairy tale ending. The problem is, Voldemort is going to do everything in his power to keep that from happening." Ginny looked like she wanted to interrupt, by Harry held up his hand to stop her. "Hear me out, Gin. I said he would try to stop it; I didn't say I would make it easy for him. But you have to accept that, as much as we both want me to survive – and I'll do everything I can _to survive_ – the fact remains that I might not. … I've thought about this a lot. Despite all our careful planning, they got me out of the castle. They could do it again, and next time I might not be lucky enough to get away." He looked down at their clasped hands, rubbing her hand with his thumb. "He may not want me dead right now, but in a way I think what he has planned could be worse. Imagine … to be stuck in limbo for eternity … not living, but not being allowed to die. I would never be reunited with Sirius, never be with my Mum and Dad, never see _you_ again."

He continued, "Of course, that assumed that he never figures out that I'm not a Horcrux, because if he does, all bets are off. For all we know, he may decide to kill me even if he still believes I'm a Horcrux, just for the fun of it." Harry reached forward and gently touched Ginny's cheek. "I don't mean to upset you, and I really do have a point, so smile for me. Please?" He didn't continue until Ginny had given him a feeble attempt at smiling. "So, my point then. Until he's gone, it's really hard for me to plan for a future, but I've decided that's not going to stop me from living."

Ginny suddenly threw herself at her boyfriend, holding him in a tight embrace. "Thank you" she whispered into her ear. "Thank you for telling me, because I want that dream too."

Harry pulled back, so he could see her face. He moved his left hand to her shoulder, his fingers playing in her hair. "I'm glad to hear that, because I have plan. A way to guarantee that we can have that dream. Marry me, Ginny. Marry me now. 'Cause if we wait, who knows what can happen. But if we get married now, we can have that dream, or at least a part of it, right now, and he can never take that away from us."

Her happiness turned to confusion, and she couldn't stop herself from parroting, "Marry you? Now?"

"Well, not right this very minute, obviously," he tittered, "I was thinking this summer we could sneak away."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, a big smile spreading across her face. "You mean elope."

"Well, in a manner of speaking, yes. Look ... I know that you would prefer to have your family there, and mine too, but I think we can both agree that they would never agree to it if we asked them. So let's just do it. What do you say ... will you marry me?"

"Yes," she gushed, pleasantly surprised at this turn of events. "I'll marry you, as soon as possible. Oh, but Harry … _how_? In our world you have to be an adult, and I'm not seventeen for another year. And I don't think I actually exist in the Muggle world, so that wouldn't work either."

"Actually, you're wrong. I read in this book about a place here in Scotland called Gretna Green, where young people run to and elope. It was quite popular in the last century."

"Oh, and what book was that?" Ginny too had read about it once in a book, but surely it wasn't the same kind of book.

"It was a, ah, historical book, but that's not important right now. The point is, I did some checking and although the Wizengamot passed a law requiring parental permission for anyone under age, Gretna Green demanded and received a special dispensation. Anyone over the age of fourteen can be legally wed there, they're just not allowed to advertise it. So, will you sneak away and marry me this summer?

Instead of answering verbally, Ginny launched herself at Harry, kissing him as if life depended on it. Harry took this as a 'yes' and joined her in the celebration. When they eventually pulled apart, each wearing a goofy grin, the two began to make tentative plans for their elopement. Harry gave a few ideas for sneaking away undetected while Ginny focused on clothes and flowers. They soon lost themselves to their excitement, and it was only when Harry's stomach growled that they realized they had missed dinner. After sneaking to the kitchens for a bite to eat they returned to Gryffindor tower. Their friends immediately rounded on them – they had missed the leaving feast after all – when they noticed their pre-occupation with each other. Incorrectly attributing it to their impending separation, Hermione insisted they leave the couple undisturbed.

Harry awoke the next morning having had very little sleep. It had been so late (or early, depending on how you looked at it) when he had gone to bed that he had had to skip his sleeping pill or else risk drastically oversleeping. That was a risk he hadn't been willing to take because he had convinced Albus to let him ride the train with this friends. Unfortunately, his gamble failed when he was pulled into Voldemort's mind. He hesitated to call it a vision, since there had been nothing much to actually see; there had been no activity of any kind in the dark and gloomy stone room. He knew this, for he had again seen through Voldemort's eyes, and _he_ had been sitting on his throne, completely alone and surrounded by darkness. Harry had been nearly overwhelmed by the raw emotion he felt. Voldemort was _sad_. He knew how absurd it sounded, for he would have bet anything the monster was incapable of basic human emotion, but there was no other word to describe what Harry felt. Voldemort was sad … and more so, he was alone. Not even Nagini was with him, Harry knew for certain.

Making a mental note to discuss this with Albus tonight, he hurried through his morning before joining his friends for the trip to the station. While they waited to board one of the carriages, Ron was sharing an off-color story from the twins when Harry saw Ron's face freeze. He followed Ron's gaze over his own shoulder, and found Professor Snape standing behind him.

"Ten points for foul language, Weasley," he practically purred, obviously having heard at least part of Ron's story. He smirked as he added, "Oh, but the year is over, isn't it? I guess I shall have to settle for sending a missive to your parents."

Ron groaned, knowing how such a note would be received, while Snape turned his attention to Hermione. "And perhaps a letter to your parents as well, Miss Granger. As a fellow prefect, you should have reprimanded Mister Weasley for his atrocious communication skills."

Hermione choose not to respond, knowing it would be pointless. She turned helplessly to Harry, who was bracing himself for whatever was about to come. Snape looked him over, head to toe, while sneering in a way that clearly showed Snape had found him lacking. And then, just as Harry started mentally counting in hopes of keeping his temper, Snape turned and strode away, leaving three dumbfounded Gryffindors in his wake.

The trio snapped out of it when Ginny joined them, and they discussed the strange encounter on the entire trip to the train. Once settled in a compartment, Harry and Ginny suffered some good-natured teasing from Neville and Hannah (who was visiting) while Ron and Hermione left to check in at the Prefect's car. Apparently their absence the night before had been missed by more than just the Gryffindor table. Harry hadn't been surprised when he found out he'd missed Gryffindor winning the House Cup. While he'd been left out of the points bonanza in the aftermath of the invasion (at his own insistence), his friends in the DA hadn't. Sure, non-Gryffindors had also received points; but Gryffindor had the most DA members involved, and that combined with their boost from winning the Quidditch Cup had done the trick.

Ron and Hermione returned just after the train pulled out, having signed up for later rounds, and joined the discussion of final grades and summer plans. Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out a bundle of parchment, which she tossed at Harry. At his questioning look, she explain, "we never got around to your project, but I did find a few spells that I think will work. Since you'll be seventeen this summer, I figured you could finish the research yourself. I mean, you're this big academic marvel now."

"_Hey_!" Harry shot back, "I worked real hard for those grades, and even then I think you beat me in most classes."

Hermione blushed at the complement, and Ron teased that Harry knew 'just what to say to a woman', advising Ginny not to fall for his smooth talk. Harry pointedly ignored his friend as he leafed through the papers, piecing together from the spells and diagrams that this would help immensely in his plans to update the Marauder's Map. He was thanking Hermione profusely when a yapping noise from the basket at Ginny's feet interrupted him. Harry reached down and pulled the now medium-sized brown puppy from under the blanket, setting it on his lap as he scratched behind its ears. All three girls present began fawning over the pup, which Harry said was named Norbert, earning him a thumbs-up from Ron. When asked, he explained that the puppy wasn't really his, saying only that it was a gift for a friend.

Neville and Hannah continued to play with the puppy as Ron got ready and left for his rounds. Hermione excused herself to find Terry Boot (supposedly to discuss an Ancient Runes assignment), and Harry cheerfully waved her off. Watching out the window, he allowed his mind to drift to last year's ride home, and how hopeless everything had seemed back then, what with Sirius' unexpected death and the truth of the prophecy heavy in his mind. He had felt so alone, so detached. Now, he knew he wasn't alone. That he had friends and _family_ that loved him. _'And an incredible fiancé.'_ Sighing, Harry pulled Ginny into his arms, amazed at how much his life had changed in one short year.

** end story **

**Notes:** So, Bauer's Friend – is Hermione right about it being a myth, or is Snape right that it does exist? Honestly, I don't know. I couldn't find it anywhere on snopes.

Well, that's the end of this year, but obviously not the end of the tale. Year Seven, in which Harry most definitely does return to Hogwarts – like Albus would let him do otherwise – promises to be as interesting as this one was. The story, titled **Advance the Phoenix**, picks up right where this one left off. Same bat time, same bat channel! Um, I mean, I've posted the first chapter along with this one, so you can start reading it right now.

TTFN!


End file.
